The Other Side
by Tiniwiel
Summary: Set immediately following the events of Children of Earth, Jack tries to find a way to escape his pain, Gwen struggles to cope and Ianto Jones is alive. But he was never dead in the first place. Was he?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes:** This is the fic I wrote last fall for the scifibigbang group over on LiveJournal. Somehow I forgot to post it on here! *facepalm*

This fic involves the following pairings/character:JackxIanto, GwenxRhys, DoctorxRose and slight mention of MickeyxJake. Appearances from several Torchwood and Doctor Who characters.

_Spoilers for all seasons of Doctor Who and Torchwood, as well as the TW radio plays._

Major thanks to my betas, mjmcca and Sprite89! They made this fic so much better.

_Additional notes at the end of the fic._

**Disclaimer**: Anything you recognize, I don't own._  
_

* * *

"You cannot run away."

"Oh yes I can. Just watch me."

Jack landed on something hard with a very loud thud. He laid there for a while, letting the dizziness fill him up before it washed away. It was the closest he'd been to feeling anything in two months.

He had thought traveling the world would distract him from the emptiness inside. The immortal went to some of the most beautiful places on this planet in the first few months after that fateful day at Thames House and actually tried to enjoy them. But then he remembered Ianto had talked about going to Rome once and Jack said they'd go there one day. Another promise broken. And Steven would have loved some of the trinkets on display at that Tokyo market. He just couldn't seem to get away from the memories of them.

Soon after Jack decided the only way to really escape from what he'd done was to go to the most barren places on Earth. He let the endless sand of the Sahara burn his eyes with reflected sunshine until he stopped seeing their faces. He climbed some rather treacherous mountains to make his hands numb and forget the feel of Ianto's skin, but after a while they reminded him of the stories Owen told him of the team's excursion through the Himalayas.

The only place Jack wasn't constantly assaulted by his own mind was when he somehow became a volunteer with the U.S. army in Iraq. They needed help from anyone with a military background to train the Iraqi army so they could go home after years of what most of the world deemed a pointless war.

Though he briefly thought of the train car full of dead men choking on roses, Estelle, Jasmine and the sound of Ianto's voice as he comforted Jack from the team's glares, soon the mission took over and he thought of nothing else. It felt good to be useful again, to be so close to combat that had nothing to do with Torchwood. He felt the best he had in six months. It was over quickly, but it made him realize what he had to do in order to try and put the past few years behind him.

Before he could move on, Jack had to return to Cardiff one final time. He could barely breathe in the damp air, felt smothered by the city's lights that once comforted him when no one else could. Yet he came back because Gwen was his last unrelenting tie to be hacked away and he hoped he could forget the tears in her eyes as she begged him to not abandon her.

Slowly Jack opened his eyes and glanced around the dark room, ears perked for anyone who heard his less than graceful entrance. Silence greeted him and Jack knew the amount of money he gave the landlord, equivalent to five years' worth of rent, would stop anyone from coming into this apartment again.

He stood on shaky legs; thankful his hard landing had been merely the floor and not any furniture. He had wanted desperately not to look at anything, but couldn't seem to keep his eyes from surveying the darkened flat. It was a stupid idea to come back here, there were too many memories and he didn't have enough time to give them all the respect they deserved. He slowly walked toward the kitchen and stared at the space around him, the appliances even darker shadows in the black.

Suddenly it felt like he had the quantum transducer clutched in his hands and all the memories began to torture him once more.

_"Why are you here? You killed Lisa, your job's done."_

_"I'm here because you are more than just an employee to me, and always have been." _

The stunned look on Ianto's face was almost too much to bear. Jack turned away from the kitchen doorway to the couch, drawn by the memory of tangled limbs.

_"You should wear jeans more often. They do all the right things." To emphasize his point, Jack slowly ran a hand up Ianto's jean-clad thigh, causing the younger man to squirm and both of them to hiss quietly at the friction._

_"This is the last time I wear jeans to work," Ianto protested even while reacting to Jack's touch. "From now on I muck out Myfawny's nest in a hazmat suit."_

Jack wondered how he missed the soft look on Ianto's face when he said that. He forced himself away from the living room as he felt the waste of each second. Though he had a short trip ahead of him, he knew if he stayed here too long he would never be able to leave again.

Jack barely made it into the master bedroom where his duffel sat at the foot of the bed. He had packed his clothes days ago, he just needed a few more things to take with him; he didn't know when he'd be back.

The memories were shoved together in this room like too many people in not enough space, they all jumbled together yet Jack could see each of them with heartbreaking clarity. Studiously ignoring the phantoms on the bed, Jack grabbed his bag and looked around for the precious items he came to retrieve.

On Ianto's nightstand sat a photo of Owen, Tosh, Ianto and Jack in a silver frame. They had all gone to the park for a picnic one afternoon, at Gwen's insistence of course, on a rare day when the Rift and Weevils were quiet and all the paperwork had been completed.

Gwen had been snapping photos all afternoon and insisted on having one of the whole team. No one was really enthused about it, Owen moaned the most, but Gwen pushed and poked as she always did and the four sat rather close together on a bench, waiting for Gwen to take the picture, when two very interesting things happened.

First, Owen had grabbed Tosh's hand, intertwining their fingers together, causing the wide grin on her face and the contented smile, lost since Diane flew into the clouds, on Owen's. Tosh later told him the two had talked it over afterwards, Owen confessing that though he had been struggling since his lover left, he knew if he let Tosh go he'd be completely lost. He had known it since Tommy Brockless broke Tosh's heart. Even though they weren't sure what "they" were, they wanted to give it a chance.

Jack now traced the contours of Ianto's face in the picture, smiling at the cheeky smirk and remembering how the young man had ever so casually placed his hand on Jack's knee and gave it a suggestive squeeze. He continued to tease Jack after the picture was taken without the rest of the team realizing what was going on, causing the picnic to end not long after. He and Ianto spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, one of the most memorable days in their relationship. Jack expected to see his usual lust-filled leer on his face in the photo but was still surprised to see something akin to love on his face.

Jack gently removed the photo from the frame and placed it on the dresser before rifling through the drawers for the next item.

He knew Ianto usually kept his diary at the Hub, but the night before the explosion Jack convinced him to bring it to his flat and leave it. He remembered the whispers in the back of his mind, warning him that the following day was going to change everything, that this was the moment that Alex had really been warning him about, not Harold Saxon and the Toclafane.

How he had convinced Ianto to bring the diary home wasn't important now. The important thing now was finding it since Ianto had insisted on hiding its whereabouts from Jack, a habit he picked up after the whole team missed 48 hours and Jack had found it in his office, read it and teased Ianto on more than one occasion. Jack slammed the third drawer shut and wrenched open the next, unwillingly recalling the last night of happiness with Ianto before their world had been torn apart. If only, he regretted as he moved to the next drawer, if only he had made that night more special.

_"I never knew a shower could be so lonely," Jack pouted even while sauntering out of the steam-filled bathroom. He didn't bother with a towel around his waist. What was the point when he knew they'd both be naked soon anyway?_

_"That's because you let yourself get spoiled by fantastic sex in normal places," Ianto quipped, almost bored as he leisurely perused a fashion magazine Gwen had left the last time she visited. He lounged on the bed on his side, still clothed in an unbuttoned steel-blue vest, matching tie with silver stripes, white shirt; the sleeves rolled to the elbows, slacks and bare feet. He took no notice of Jack's physical reaction to the sight of him._

_The older man slid up the bed covers to press himself against his lover's back and placed a soft yet promising kiss on his neck. Ianto hummed in appreciation but continued to lazily flip the glossy pages in front of him._

_Frowning at this lack of response, Jack laid an arm over the slim waist he adored, slipped a few fingers between two shirt buttons and drew lazy circles on the skin there. "Well, if you're going to read I suppose I will too. Now," he grinned, "where's that diary of yours?" He could feel the other man's eyeroll._

_"Tucked away where you won't find it and you won't be getting it out of me," Ianto answered in a teasing voice._

_"We'll just see about that," Jack answered huskily before rolling Ianto onto his back and lying on top of him._

Jack threw the neatly folded socks across the room in frustration. Where the hell was it? He turned, took in the mess of clothes strewn over the room and heard Ianto gently ordering him to clean it up, which he did while blinking away tears. He sat on the bed, covered his face with his hands and let out a harsh sob. He had to find that diary, it was the closest he would ever get to hearing Ianto's voice, to having that solid presence that was and always would be Ianto. He couldn't leave without it.

He lifted his head and stared bleakly at the writing desk in the corner. It was made from a beautiful light wood, pine maybe, the fold-down door had a center oval inlay spliced into sections of alternating dark and light woods. He remembered Ianto saying it once belonged to his grandfather, a family heirloom, yet he couldn't remember ever seeing him use it, and he never looked inside it himself.

Realization dawned and Jack leapt across the room toward the desk. He pulled at the copper handle, only to have the desk rattle from the force and do nothing else. He tried again, only to be refused. Looking closer he found a keyhole just below the handle. Of course it was locked.

Turning quickly, Jack surveyed the room. He assumed the key was also hidden and it had to be in this room since Ianto would never risk needing to open the desk with someone else in the flat and have the key and the guest be in the same room. So, there were few places to look: the bed, the dresser, the closet and the nightstand on Ianto's side of the bed. Jack had stored a few of his things in the other, and had been in the top drawer of Ianto's plenty of times, that's where the things important for bedroom activities were kept, but he never went in the second drawer.

He had asked about it once, but Ianto answered shortly that he kept a few mementos of Lisa there and though he barely looked at them anymore, he needed them there all the same. Jack was never tempted to go in the drawer, as he had his own box of old memories, there only for reassurance that he could be human.

This drawer was thankfully not locked and contained a picture of a young Ianto and Lisa, smiling and in love. The universe had no right to steal that happiness, even if it did give him Ianto for a short while. There was also a leather-bound book of poetry with a small bouquet of dried jasmine tied in a lavender ribbon pressed between the pages.

Tucked into the back cover was a small key that looked about as old as the desk. In a few long strides Jack stood in front of the desk, hesitating with the key between his fingers. If he opened it, he would be taking the last of Ianto's privacy, something he knew through his work people didn't have after death, yet he felt compelled to give it to the man who he knew deserved it. Ianto had done all this to make sure no one, especially Jack, knew what was hidden inside.

Shaking his head and trying not to think that it didn't matter anymore since Ianto was dead, he slid the key into the lock. It turned easily and the door pulled open silently. There it sat, the small black diary full of thoughts and moments that Ianto never shared with him. He tried not to feel hurt, since he was so very guilty of keeping secrets himself, but the ache in his heart throbbed a little anyway.

He stared at the little book through his tears, as it sat awaiting its owner's return to fill its pages with various marvelous artifacts or angrily-scribbled frustrations or astounded admissions of love that were never meant to be seen.

The rest of the desk was empty, save for an odd bundle Jack nearly missed through his tears. He gently pulled it out and gave a small strangled sob as he saw the ancient stopwatch they had used so many times sitting on top a stack of letters. He thought it had been destroyed in the blast. His sobs hiccupped as he saw his name in Ianto's handwriting on the top letter of the large stack of letters. They were wrapped in a bow made of strange material that he thought he knew, but he couldn't seem to bring up anything other than Ianto's face in his mind. He had been here too long; he could feel his resolve barely holding.

Quickly he took the watch, letters and the diary, shut and locked the desk and went back to his bag. He gently placed the picture inside the pages of the book and set them along with the letters on top of the clothing inside the bag.

Gently slinging it over his shoulder, Jack walked through the memories in the flat as though his feet were made of lead. He stopped at the front door, looked around the darken space one last time and turned away. He wiped away the last of the tears, locked the door and walked away, never turning back.

* * *

"Mickey, where is it?" Gwen Cooper cried and nearly flipped the Lexus as she sharply rounded a corner.

"Hang on, the signal's coming back." Mickey's fingers flew over the keyboard on his lap, his eyes darting form their dance and the flurry of images on the clear computer screen on the dashboard.

"Lois, are you sure this thing is hostile?" Gwen asked of the young woman in the back seat, her fingers also scurrying along keys on a wireless keyboard.

"Gwen, I know you're our leader, but Martha has put you on desk duty and I don't think-"

"Martha's on her trip to UNIT and you two needed the extra help."

"Actually," Mickey said, "We could have-"

"Is. It. Hostile?" Gwen ground out.

"According to the archives the Enfros are a trading race that will fight to the death if they feel their goods are in danger of being stolen," Lois said cautiously. She knew there was going to be yet another row between the resident doctor and their leader about this. Gwen was just too stubborn to be taken out of the field, no matter her rapidly approaching due date. "Combine that with the fact it's run into the police station, fired its laser gun at several civilians and called Mickey a name I'd rather not repeat, then yes. Very hostile."

"There!" Mickey cried. A red dot blinked on the map on the screen. "He's stopped just inside Tongwynlais. It looks like a field." Gwen winced as Mickey butchered the pronunciation, ignored the ache at the thought that Ianto would have shared her pain then tease Mickey for it later and stepped on the gas.

They reached the field soon after, the full moon bright and casting strange shadows from the trees surrounding it. The alien stood in the middle of the tall grass, one arm outstretched, his hand clasping the devices it had waved in front of the CCTV cameras while standing on the invisible lift not hours before, starting this chase, the other pointing a weapon at their car. Its skin looked translucent and reminded Gwen of when they had gone to Martha in Switzerland and those people who looked as though they were made of light.

"Right, Mickey you go to the west, Lois the east, I'll go north. Have you got eyes on us so we can have the footage for later?" Gwen checked her weapon as she spoke.

"The CCTV cameras don't go this far," Lois answered, tapping away. "But I'm working on a satellite image now. And Andy called before we left, he's trying to keep everyone out of the way but his superiors want to know what destroyed part of their station."

"Can't bloody well tell them the alien crashed its speeder, can we?" Mickey mumbled, his eyes never straying from the alien that stood stock-still just meters away. His leg jiggled with anticipation. As much as he loved working the technical side, his time with Jake made him love the chase as well. Swallowing the pain at the thought of his former partner, Mickey looked over at their leader. She nodded and as one they opened their doors and trained their guns on the alien.

"Put the weapons down," Gwen ordered as the three spread out. "We don't want to hurt you but you've caused a lot of damage and we're going to have to take you in." The alien still said nothing and before anyone could react it shot a red laser at Gwen, grazing her leg. She cried out in pain and the others made to move toward her, their fingers a little tighter on the triggers.

"I'm okay!" She cried. "Stay where you are." She returned her gun's aim toward the alien, who had in the distraction thrown down his own weapon and now held one device in each hand, its arms outstretched. "That was a stupid move," she ground out. "Shoot to kill," she ordered the others.

"You won't kill me. I have something precious to you," the alien finally spoke. Its taunt came out in a garbled hiss, like a snake underwater. Its blue-grey hide shone in the moonlight, its translucency even more apparent. The three inched closer at its words, Gwen limping a little from the shot, but it didn't move. Green blood thrummed beneath the wet paper skin in tiny veins that crossed like spider webs its face, contorted by the smirk of its navy lips. Purple eyes danced with laughter. "Would you like to put it back in its proper place?"

"What is this nut on about?" Mickey muttered, his gun never wavering.

"Guys? I can't really tell what's in its hand, but it almost looks like two parts of a bomb." Lois' voice sounded breathless, she still wasn't used to the adrenaline rush.

"Why does it think we want it?" Mickey asked scoffed.

"I don't know, but I'm tired of playing games. Just shoot it!" Gwen ordered.

"What if it has a dead man's switch?" Lois countered, never taking her eyes from the smirking being. "What if the bomb detonates anyway once it's dead?"

"Yes," it hissed, "listen to the smart little girl." Lois' eyes narrowed. "Both devices are needed for it to work," the alien continued to hiss. "No one knows if they will work separately. Shall we find out, or do you want your essence back?"

Before anyone could question what that meant, light flashed behind the alien and the air filled with the sound of cracking glass.

"Oh shit," Gwen swore as the light grew. "It can't be!"

"Can't be what?" Lois yelled as Mickey shouted, "What the hell is that!"

"Just shoot it!" Gwen cried, limping closer to the target. She had to keep it from going through; they'd lose it forever and other could be hurt.

Simultaneous shots rang out as Lois, Mickey and Gwen opened fire. The alien screamed, sounding like a ship scraping the reef and dropped to the ground, twitching as they continued to shoot. Mickey, closest to the alien, dove for the devices in the hopes that catching them would prevent it from exploding.

But he was too far away and one device fell harmlessly to the ground while the other fell into the light and disappeared. The light quickly receded leaving the field was suddenly silent. The sent of burnt seaweed permeated the air as the team lay panting in the cold wet grass, waiting for the explosion that never came.

The three quickly stood, and approached the fallen alien slowly, guns drawn. "Everybody okay?" Gwen barked.

"We're fine," Lois breathed as she crouched over the dead alien. "The device didn't blow up, though." She looked over at her leader, who was staring at the air where the light had been moments ago. "What me to look at that?" She asked, gesturing toward the blood spot on Gwen's jeans. She knew Martha would all but chain Gwen to her desk if she found out she had been injured. The older woman didn't answer right away, then suddenly jerked and looked down at Lois, who was staring at her curiously but still pointing to the wound. Gwen glanced down at it.

"It can wait until we get back," she murmured. Looking around, she spotted Mickey scanning the alien's device to make sure it was safe for them to touch. "What is it?" She called.

"Well, I'm pretty sure it's not a bomb," he answered distractedly, still deciphering the readouts. Before his death Ianto had managed to make a digital catalog of everything in the archives, allowing for the team to gather more information while still out in the field. "If it were, the closest match in the archives is two parts of a Rossonian bomb. They're enemies with the Ef-whoever. But I think it's some sort of communication...thing." He scooped up what looked almost like a PDA, only it was rounded and shaped a bit like a peanut. One end had a small screen while the other was covered with buttons, all labeled in an unknown language. It had two sockets on one side, as though something connected to it. "But whatever it is, it's not dangerous. Only thing coming off it is some residual rift energy."

"Damn it," the pregnant woman muttered, arching her back slightly. "Then what about the other device? Maybe that was the bomb and this is the detonator?"

"Yeah, but greenie over here said the halves had to be together to work. It kind of defeats the purpose if you have to be next to a bomb to blow it up." He crouched next to the body, examining the still oozing green blood shining on the grass in the moonlight.

"Let's get it back to the Hub," Gwen ordered wearily. "You can have a closer look there and we can see everything Lois found on its race. Make sure the blood isn't toxic first."

For a small team of three they worked quickly, ascertaining the area was clean of radiation or any other sort of poison, stuffing the body into the trunk (the Lexus may be more streamlined but it had less trunk space than the old SUV), burned the grass where the alien had fallen and left quickly before anyone came looking.

"What was that light, Gwen?" Lois asked from the passenger's seat as they returned to the city. "You said 'it can't be.' What was it?"

Gwen sighed but stayed silent until they stopped at a traffic light. "A man calling himself Captain John Hart came here using the Rift. Long story short, he was an old partner of Jack's from something called the Time Agency. Hart was manipulated into bombing the city."

"Wait, you're telling me the terrorist attack that shut down the city, that was just one man?" Lois asked as the light turned green. Gwen clutched the wheel but didn't move.

"He's also part of the reason Tosh and Owen died. If it weren't for him, the man who shot Tosh wouldn't have found a way here. The bombs wouldn't have taken out the reactor that killed Owen."

The car sat in silence. Neither of them had heard Gwen mention Tosh or Owen since she had recruited them to the new Torchwood. Though Mickey had been with Torchwood longer than Lois (which wasn't saying much) neither of them knew the details of Owen and Tosh's deaths. They only knew that someone close to Jack had returned and killed them. And Mickey only knew this because Ianto had needed someone to confide in and the two men got on pretty well. They both knew what it was like to have the Doctor and Torchwood change your life forever, so they quickly formed a bond. The car behind them honked and, blinking away tears, Gwen continued driving.

"So the alien...it was manipulating the Rift as well?" Mickey asked as they pulled into the parking garage.

"Yeah and now we have no idea when or where the other half ended up, or what will happen if someone finds it. Come on, get out the gurney for our guest."

Gwen walked slowly back to the Hub, not waiting for the others to get the body onto the cart, her body protesting with every step. She was stubborn enough to not back down from doing her job, but not so stubborn as not to admit there was a possibility she had a mistake in going out tonight. Martha had forbidden her from going out on missions after her fifth month of pregnancy, which resulted in nearly daily rows between the two headstrong women. But Martha was adamant and for the most part Gwen was stuck in the Hub, doing surveillance and connecting with the team over the coms. It nearly drove her mad. How had Tosh and Ianto done this all the time?

Swallowing back the threat of tears, Gwen entered the main area still deep in her own thoughts. She didn't see an angry Rhys Williams pacing beside one of the workstations and an equally angry-looking Martha beside him.

"Gwen!" Rhys shouted. She looked up and halted at the sight of them. She tried to look guilty but it was hard when she was feeling wearier by the minute.

"Rhys?" She asked. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought I'd surprise you with dinner since you've been working so much, and imagine my surprise when I find Martha here, alone and just as shocked."

"Rhys-" Gwen's voice was sharp and her eyes darted to the office where she'd rather have this conversation. But Martha marched toward her before Rhys could continue, radiating anger and disappointment.

"How could you?" She said in a low, serious voice. "I gave you specific instructions, all but ordered you to stay here during missions! You put your baby and yourself at serious risk," she hissed. Lois and Mickey moved slowly and silently into the Hub, used to this fight but still not wanting the residual anger to be directed toward them. "Who knows what could have happened out there? Your car could have crashed or you could have been exposed to a deadly alien toxin or the bomb you thought he had could have detonated!" Her voice grew louder as she spoke and by the end she was yelling, her authoritative voice echoing off the Hub's walls.

"It had a bomb?" Rhys said incredulously. "The thing had a bloody bomb and you went after it? You promised me you'd do desk duty until the baby was born!" He shouted as Gwen limped a few steps toward him. "You're hurt? Is it bad?" At her headshake his eyes narrowed. "How could you put our baby in danger like that? How could you be so reckless?" He couldn't seem to decide if he was angry for putting their lives in danger or worried about her injuries.

"Now you listen here, Rhys Williams. I've got a job to do, a very important job! I help save lives every day."

"Yes, but Gwen-"

"Not now, Martha," Gwen said roughly. Martha crossed her arms and set her jaw. If Gwen was paying attention, she would have seen the anger building but her focus was on her husband. "Our baby's safety is always the first thing on my mind when I go out into the field. You can't expect me to stop living!"

"No one's asking you to stop living, sweetheart. Just to stay in the Hub until the baby is born, because Martha's right, who knows what could happen? We don't even know what she's been exposed to already!"

"How can you even think I haven't thought of all that? I'm always careful!"

Rhys was about to point out her injured leg when Martha cut him off.

"Gwen," she said sternly. "You can be reckless with your own life all you want but I refuse to stand by and let you endanger your baby and possibly the rest of the team."

"How would I put you in danger?" Gwen demanded, her eyes flicking over to where Lois and Mickey were now watching the fight from the safety of the autopsy steps, the alien on the slab below them.

"You can't move as fast now, Gwen. If one of our lives depended on you getting to us quickly, you probably wouldn't get to us in time and that could cost lives." Gwen stopped back as though physically pushed. Martha took a breath and drew herself up, looking every inch the UNIT solider and savior of the earth. "If you don't agree to desk duty and not go out on missions until after the baby is born, I have no choice but to temporarily remove you as leader of Torchwood Three." A shocked silence filled the Hub. Even the equipment seemed to go quiet.

"You can't do that," Gwen whispered. "You wouldn't."

"Technically with my status at UNIT I am higher up than you." Martha said coldly before loosening her stance and softening her voice. "Please don't make me do this Gwen. I don't want to pull rank but if you keep insisting on acting without thinking, there's nothing left for me to do but this."

Gwen looked from Martha to Rhys, her eyes wide. Her eyes welled with angry and hurt tears before she stormed into her office and slammed the door.

"Thanks," Rhys muttered, sincerely grateful, as he stared at the shut door.

"I didn't want to do that, you know. I respect her and what she's been through the past six months. Being here, being out in the field has helped, hasn't it?" They both thought of the long hours Gwen had been pulling since the reconstruction of the Hub, a nearly perfect replica of its predecessor. It wasn't healthy, but she was a stubborn woman. Martha wasn't even sure if her threat had worked.

"Yeah, but we both know the only reason she's been running so hard is so she doesn't have to think about losing basically her entire family here. She still thinks Jack is going to come back and she knows if she sits still long enough it will be obvious he isn't." Bitterness never crept into Rhys' voice as he spoke of his wife's devotion to the other man. He realized a long time ago that she was more interested in the life Jack promised than the man himself. And if there had been any sexual attraction between Gwen and her captain, Rhys chalked it up to the desire of forbidden fruit. It was naive and maybe a little stupid, but after everything that happened with the 456 Rhys hoped he had nothing more to worry about.

"You staying around?" Martha asked after a moment. She couldn't do any more about Gwen tonight, so she already had half a mind on the body Mickey and Lois brought in. "You're welcome to, you know."

Rhys sighed, still staring at the door. "Nah, I've got some things to do at home. I'll be back later, though, once she's calmed down." He turned and after waving goodbye to the others, walked out the cog door and into the crisp night air.

It didn't take long for Martha to get engrossed in her autopsy and Lois busy with residual clean up. She had been on the phone with the police for nearly an hour, working her hardest along with Andy to keep them at bay. After Gwen took over she appointed Andy as the official police liaison. From what Mickey had heard, no one took Andy seriously until he helped them save a girl from the future who had fallen through the Rift. When he joined a fight between some civilians and soldiers during the 456 invasion, taking the civilian's side, his fate seemed decided: Torchwood. Mickey hadn't known him for long but he seemed like an all right bloke. Strange sometimes, but made up for that with his eagerness to help and his quick thinking.

Mickey turned the device over in his hands. It didn't weigh more than his PDA and his original comparison to the Earth device seemed spot on. If only he could translate the markings, maybe they could figure out the thing's riddle about an "essence." Tosh's computer program had been scanning for as long as Lois had been on the phone and he had a feeling it would continue long after she was done. They just didn't have enough manpower to sort through the program.

Or, he thought ruefully, he wasn't as good as Tosh. He liked to think himself a computer expert, but after seeing the work Tosh had done, saved on an external Torchwood server and therefore from the blast, he realized he had barely begun to learn everything there was to know about computer work like this. He did his best to fill her metaphorically large shoes, but some days he felt like he was climbing up ice.

If Jake were here...but Mickey threw that thought away quickly and stared at the running program once more. Soon his eyes began to glaze over, so setting down the device and making sure the others weren't watching (especially Gwen, who had picked up Jack's habit of watching you from a higher level) he opened the locked bottom drawer and pulled out what looked like a thin sheet of plastic. He tapped the corner and waited expectantly. When nothing happened, he repeated the action. And again, with more ferocity.

"Come on Rose," he murmured in frustration. "If something's happening here, something's got to be happening there." The plastic didn't change and he shoved it back into the drawer with a little more force than necessary. Something was wrong and it had to do with this alien, he could just feel it. His Gran used to say he had a gift of knowing when something would happen before it actually did. He used to just wave it off as something crazy she would say, but then he had a feeling when the Autons struck that something was off, and the same feeling when Rose came back without the Doctor, before he had changed his face, again when they landed in Pete's World for the first time and again when he and Jake went on that mission...If only he had listened to that feeling, maybe things would be different now. Maybe Jake would be alive.

Mickey could feel the tears forming and he quickly changed track. Whatever was going on, whatever this feeling in his bones was, it was coming soon and he wasn't sure they were ready for it.

* * *

A reality away, Ianto Jones woke with a gasp.

* * *

The early morning sunlight sliced through the blinds of the hotel room with a mocking cheeriness. Jack turned his sleep-deprived eyes away from the watch in his hands to the splashes of light across the cheap bedspread and sighed. He hadn't slept at all last night; his mind was too full of Ianto, just as it had the past two weeks.

When Jack decided to return to the British Air Force, he contacted the son of an old friend. Colonel Alexander Cartwright was born not long after Jack had left with the Doctor the first time. They had been in touch over the years, Jack posing as he did with Estelle as his own son and formed a bond through their fathers' heroic tales and a few times through Torchwood. The Colonel had offered him aid if ever the seemingly younger man needed it. So, when he came back to Cardiff two weeks ago, Alex was the first person he called. Preparations for his addition to the convoy to Afghanistan from were going to take time, Alex had said, so Jack camped out in this dingy London hotel room, praying he would wake up and find all this a dream.

Movement caught Jack's eye and he swore he saw Ianto standing in the corner, staring at him with scared wide eyes. But when he tried to focus on the spot, all Jack could see was shadow. It was happening again, just like the first days after Thames House. Jack had seen Ianto everywhere and it nearly drove him mad. He couldn't go through that again.

Scrubbing the grit from his eyes, Jack shuffled out of bed and quickly got ready for his meeting. He skipped breakfast; even if he were hungry he couldn't eat. How could he when Ianto was gone? When Steven and Alice were gone? He had nothing more to live for and he would never die, so what was the point of eating? Starving to death was slow and painful, but he deserved every agonizing minute of it.

No, he thought to himself sternly after hailing a cab and climbing in. He couldn't think like that anymore. Soon he would be leading a troop of men, back to Afghanistan to help the Americans and it would do no one good if he made reckless decisions with no regard for his own life, much less his men's lives. That's how other people got killed and his hands were blood-stained enough as it was.

Jack focused on the bustling city speeding past him as they drove toward the base. He tried to ignore the thrill that went through him when he thought he saw Ianto standing on the corner in his favorite suit, only to blink and see an anonymous young man in his place. This was a very bad sign and he knew it had everything to do with going back to Cardiff, and being so close to the memories. His self-exile had worked for a while, but he had known he wasn't going to be able to avoid the city forever, Jack was only afraid that he had come back too soon.

Soon Jack found himself staring at the plain building sitting glumly in the bright sunshine. Bases weren't meant to look pretty; they were sterile, practical and devoid of any emotions other than honor and loyalty. Jack needed that, his brief stint in Iraq showed him that and he was eager to get away from the life filled with pain that he had suffered for nearly two centuries.

Jack found himself impatiently waiting in the reception area as the secretary called down to the Colonel. Alex knew their meeting was today, he seemed to be looking forward to it even when they spoke on the phone, so it was a little strange the man wasn't readily available. But, as Jack knew all too well from Torchwood, things happen, so he tried not to worry. It was the paranoia Torchwood instilled that was getting the best of Jack. He had never trusted easily, being a Time Agent, Companion to a Time Lord and Torchwood Operative for nearly two centuries would do that to a person. But he hoped coming back to the roots that brought him to Earth would help him regain some of that free nature he had in 1941, before the Doctor came and changed his life. Or ruined it. He still wasn't sure which.

"Jack Harkness?"

Jack looked up and saw not the Colonel, but a younger man with lieutenant bars and a grim smile. Jack stood and stuck out his hand, as he was technically a civilian, even in Torchwood the military never seemed to honor Jack's title of Captain.

"Lieutenant Brandon Hartage," the dark-eyed man said in a clipped London accent. A lifetime ago Jack would have flirted a bit with the young man, but now the frosty exterior did little to put him at ease. "Colonel Cartwright was called away unexpectedly and asked me as his second in command to show you the base until he returns." Hartage smiled and the hairs on the back of Jack's neck stood on end. He had seen this man before and though he couldn't place it, Jack knew it wasn't under pleasant circumstances.

"If you'll follow me," the young man said. He led Jack down a series of corridors, proudly listing off the achievements and history. They paused in a hallway of pictures. "These are the men who served in the RAF Police as part of the Royal Air Force. They've seen a lot over the years."

If Jack had been paying attention more on what the man was saying, rather than searching for himself in the 1940s group photos (he had tried to be careful, but he was known to do stupid things after one drink too many) he would have questioned the lieutenant's focus on that regiment. He also would have noticed the simply evil grin that grew on the young man's face, like a cat who had caught its prey. Instead he merely said, "I've seen a few things in my time too."

"Like the year on the Valiant under Harold Saxon's reign?" Jack's blood froze, his body stiffened. "That glorious year where life finally seemed to right?"

Jack turned toward Hartage, his brain finally placing the pieces together. "You were one for the soldiers on the Valiant," he whispered, barely audible over the rushing of blood in his ears. Jack couldn't remember much of the second six months during that year, but he was pretty sure Hartage was one of the men Saxon let join in on the torture. The lieutenant sneered. "But we retconned them all." He took a few halting steps toward the man, but what could he do? He was second in command on this base and Jack wasn't even sure he had a position here yet.

"Oh, I took your magic little pill. Then a week later I saw an old Vote Saxon poster in the rubbish bin and it all came flooding back." Hartage closed the gap between them, his smirk twisting into a snarl. "A year, one entire year waiting for a world full of perfection. The Toclafane were our way to a new world."

"The Toclafane were the Master's perversion of human life."

"And this is any better?" He took a step back and swung his arms out wide. "This world it was, is, full of shit and crooked politicians. I mean, six months ago aliens start talking through the kids. And what does our government, our queen, do? They start shipping off the lot of them to a to a secret base."

Jack held back a scoff. What would this idiot do if he knew they were actually going to act like the best drug dealers in the universe?

"Saxon was doing things right, he was cleansing the world of its problems until you and your doctor in pinstripes and fuckin' Martha Jones waltz in and take it all away. Then that stupid bitch of a wife shot him. I can't get to her or your doctor and precious Martha Jones is too far up UNIT for me to touch. But you?" He smirked as he stepped in close again and poked Jack in the chest. "I've got you, Mister Harkness at my disposal."

Instantly Jack's defenses went up and he readied himself to fight. If he remembered right, though most of the torture was a blur, this one liked to use his fists. A lot. But the lieutenant simply opened the door at the end of the hall and motioned Jack to follow. He weighed his options. Either he could leave and look over his shoulder the rest of this man's life, or he could play his game. Instead, he tried to make sense of it. "How can you do this? Once the colonel-"

The lieutenant spun around, the smug smirk still wide across his face. "For the past year I've worked my way up the chain. I've kept tabs on you, I knew you were doing something that required contact with the higher-ups and I knew it would be my only chance to put you back in your place, freak." Jack was proud of himself when he didn't flinch. "So, when the old man is away, I'm at play." The smile turned sour. "You think you can cry to the man who's entrusted me with more than you can ever imagine and think he'll take your side?"

It was Jack's turn to smirk. "Now there you have me." He could play all his cards, tell this kid that the "old man" is a closer friend than he ever would be and that friendship was stronger than any military rank. But he'd rather let the pathetic sneak think he'd won. The fall was so much better to enjoy that way.

He followed Hartage down the hall, through an adjoining hallway into a collection of rec rooms marking the outer edge of the base. The Lieutenant led him to the last cabin and stopped at the door, still smirking. Jack wondered how hard he'd have to hit him to wipe it off.

"Here you are, Harkness." He sneered. "Your troop: the children."

"The children?" Jack asked, suddenly seeing a group of school kids, their mouths wide open, an unholy screeching erupting from their mouths.

"It's the youngest group of recruits in our compound. I know Alex had made a deal to put you with the group set to help the American soldiers who can't seem to do their job, but I thought babysitting might be better suited for you." He chuckled darkly. "No way these boys are getting anywhere near the front lines. Not in this war."

He walked away laughing and Jack watched him with disgust. There was no way he would let that kid ruin his chance at escape, but he knew all he could do now was wait for the colonel return from the wild goose chase Hartage probably sent him on. Just like Harold Saxon did to his team. Before he realized it, Jack slammed his fist into the concrete wall. Absorbing the pain, he sighed. He didn't know how much longer he could live like this.

The sound of laughter caught Jack's attention and he peered into the small window of the door Hartage had indicated. Inside a group of about ten men all sitting at a round table in the middle of the room. Jack pushed down the envy at their frivolity, as short-lived as it probably would be, and watched as they played poker and joked like he and his team once did.

One of the young men (they were all too young just like Ianto) threw a chip at a solitary figure sitting on the couch not far from the table, in front of a blank T.V., his back to the door. He was far enough from the crowd as not to interrupt the book he was reading (Jack could just barely make it out in the television's screen) but close enough for Jack to assume the others didn't alienate him, he simply didn't want to play.

The young man turned around to lean over the back of the couch at his comrades and Jack reeled back. He looked just like Ianto, they all made Jack think of him, but this one looked exactly like him. It was all too much. Jack turned away from the window and leaned his head against the cool concrete wall. Would his heart ever stop aching? He couldn't lead these men – no, boys – he saw Ianto in all of them and he knew one day he would snap and only see the young archivist in them and get them killed, just like he did Ianto.

Jack tugged at his hair and groaned. He had tried everything to forget the pain but it seemed impossible to erase. Maybe…his mind began to race…maybe that was his problem Maybe instead of running from everything that reminded him of Ianto, of his lost family, he should immerse himself in it. People did it all the time with phobias: jump into water or put their hand in a jar of spiders. Maybe, just maybe, if he spent every day with these boys he wouldn't snap, but do just the opposite: heal.

Pushing away from the wall, Jack formulated the new plan in his mind. He would ask Cartwright to stay and train this troop, both for their sakes' and for his. The immortal took one more glance inside the room. Not-Ianto had been persuaded, or perhaps decided, to abandon his book and now watched the game with a furrowed brow as though trying to understand what was taking place. Ianto did that with sports sometimes, especially American football.

Jack did his best to ignore the pain of the memory and quickly walked down the way he came. An hour later he found himself sitting in the office of a very irate colonel.

"The nerve of that man!" He growled. "How dare he play games with me and expect to get away with it. Captain, I am sorry for what my former second has done. I know you wanted to go overseas, and I held the position open to assist the American Army." The colonel frowned, letting Jack now exactly how he felt about the situation. "A demotion for that man is in order, and I think Captain Hartage can train the squadron he tried to pass off on you."

"Actually," Jack interjected Alex reached for the phone. "I think I would like to train those men.'

"I don't understand, you said you wanted to be shipped out. I delayed the entire mission for weeks because of you, called in a lot of favors that apparently could have been saved for better use!"

"I know sir, and I appreciate that as well as apologize for this change .But I saw something in those men, rather, someone. A man under my command who I let down in the worst way and I'd like to try and make it up to him by helping those men."

Cartwright eyed him carefully. "Are you sure? I'm not one to judge, but I've seen men in similar situations and I can't say this is the best way to get over the loss of someone close to you." Jack kept his face as neutral as possible. He hadn't kept up on the policy of homosexuals in the Royal Armed Forces, but Jack would rather not make trouble, for once in his life. "And I won't be able to get another chance to send you to the Middle East."

"Thank you for your concern Colonel, but I'm sure."

"Very well," the older-looking man said uncertainly as he stood. "I have the authorization to promote you to Major, which I will do once the paperwork is processed. Expect to find the appropriate uniform in your on-base housing assignment. And since your troop is at the top of the list to become the newest regiment in base security, I've decided to make you the new head of the division. Our previous department head left just a week ago and though your men will probably not be ready for at least a year, I believe you have the right training to get them ready for this most auspicious post. Now," he continued before Jack could protest, "let's introduce you to your men."

* * *

Ianto Jones remembered every detail of his death: how the air thinned and seemed to pull away as he struggled to breathe, like a child playing keep away. He remembered peace and love and being surrounded by the faces of those he lost. He remembered Lisa, full of forgiveness and love. He remembers his mam and the feeling of home. It wasn't like Suzie or Jack or Owen had said. There was no darkness.

He remembered the tears in the Jack's voice and the agony in his eyes. He remembered the fear of being forgotten and the terrible finality, I am going to die, as his vision grew dark. He remembers more peace and how time had no bearing. He remembered resting for an eternity and an instant.

Then he remembered sharp, excruciating pain. Jack had said it was like being pulled across glass, Ianto thought it felt more like being pulled through fire. He remembered a flash of pure nothing, then the tear of air into his lungs. He remembered feeling not quite himself, yet reveling in the ultimate truth:

He was alive.


	2. Chapter 2

"Gwen!" Lois prided herself on being a generally quiet person, but when they hadn't seen their leader in three days and finally had some answers about the alien and its device, yet said leader refused to leave her office, she resorted to banging on the door and shouting with little guilt. "Gwen, the program is done with translating the device and Mickey's got it figured out…mostly" She ignored the half-whispered 'oi!' from behind her. "Martha's done with the autopsy and I found some more on the Enfros and what it meant by an 'essence.' Gwen?" She banged on the door a few more times before walking halfway across the Hub to the others in defeat. 'She's been in there for three days!"

"But she's been home," Rhys insisted. Lois called him earlier when the team decided it had been long enough since they had last seen their leader. When he hadn't been able to coax her out, they called Andy in as well. Then the results began to stack up and Lois had been designated to give it a try. Again. Rhys stared at the closed door and leaned against the couch arm as Andy had sprawled across the whole thing after his attempt failed. "She's been home," Rhys repeated. " Granted, she's home late and gone early, but there's always dirty dishes in the sink and clothes on the floor."

"At least she's eating," Martha sighed from her seat on Mickey's desk. "But why doesn't she come out? It can't just be because of our fight."

"Do you lot ever watch the news?" Andy scoffed from his scrutiny of a baby merchandise magazine Gwen had left lying around. At the blank stares he threw it down and sat up. "Bloody Torchwood. See, Her Majesty's Armed Forces is sending out troops to help the Americans in the Middle East, with representatives from the Army, the Navy…everyone."

"So?" Mickey asked, his eyes glued to the translations on the screen. Though Tosh's program had worked Mickey was still trying to make sense of the markings.

"The trip was delayed nearly three weeks ago because they thought they'd be taking on some more people from the Air Force."

"Andy, your point?" Lois demanded though her eyes were flickering to Gwen's shut door.

"My point is there was no cruiser in orbit the night Jack left, was there?" Rhys had told the others what had happed that night. He felt it only fair since they were part of Jack's life too, even Andy. "He just used his fancy wristwatch thing to teleport himself nearby and then took off and joined up with the RAF."

"So you think they delayed a mission of international importance just because of Jack?" Martha asked. "I know he's got a lot pull with the military, but even I wouldn't be able to get them to do something like that."

"But it is possible. Gwen said he's been around for a while, so who knows what connections he's made?"

"How do you know all this?" Mickey asked with a small smirk.

"I don't…" Andy muttered. "But it's a good a theory as any!"

"It's ridiculous!" Martha said, a little too sharply. "I mean, why do that and lie to Gwen?"

"Because he knew she'd go after him," Rhys answered quietly. "He wanted us to have a normal life. It's what he's always tried to give her despite this job."

"It sort of makes sense, though. We work less with the regularl military and more with UNIT. There wouldn't be a huge risk of us finding him." Mickey said after a moment, his eyes a little unfocused on the program running on the screen in front of him. Something flickered and he glanced at the device before writing something down in his notebook.

"But he isn't here!" Martha insisted. Her voice echoed a bit and as everyone had turned their focus to the conversation, so they missed the creak of a door opening and the sight of a slightly pale and drawn Gwen Cooper peering out. "Rhys, you said Jack left in a solid beam of light, yeah? I've used that transporter and seen it used. It's more like you just disappear rather then get beamed away."

No one argued and they sat in silence until Rhys finally saw Gwen standing just outside her door. "There you are, lovely! We've been worried about you." He hugged her briefly and laid a hand on the small of her back as he led her toward the group.

"Is it possible?" She whispered tiredly, eyes sweeping over her friends. "Is it actually possible?"

"Is what possible, sweetheart?" Rhys asked gently.

"Is it possible Jack is still on this planet?" They all stared at each other guiltily before the bottom drawer of Mickey's desk suddenly began to hum.

"What the hell is that?" Martha cried, jumping away from the desk. Andy leapt to the back of the couch and Rhys pulled Lois and Gwen away. All but Rhys and Mickey had hands on their guns. Mickey even seemed surprised as he fumbled for the key around his neck. Martha had assumed it was a TARDIS key until now.

"Seriously mate," Andy yelled as the humming grew. "What the hell is that?"

"It's answers," Mickey answered triumphantly as he took out the transparent sheet he had poked at days before.

"Answers to what?" Martha asked. "You know we aren't supposed to keep the stuff we find!" She cried when he didn't answer.

"Yeah, well, I brought this tech with me. I already knew what it was so the rule didn't really apply."

"And what exactly does it do?" Andy asked from his perch on the couch. He wasn't a coward, but when something in the Hub starts humming, he didn't want to be too close.

"It's a communication device Rose and I came up with on Pete's World just in case we were separated between realities when she was trying to get back here," Mickey explained as he set the now-quiet tech on the desk. "It allows brief messages to cross the void and onto the matching device."

"So Rose is contacting you?" Martha asked incredulously. "But I thought the Doctor said that was impossible?"

"Travel between the worlds is supposedly impossible," Mickey clarified, grinning. "But this was part of the research Rose and I lead when she tried to get back here to help Donna and the Doctor." Though so far this all went over everyone's head (except Martha's), they listened intently. Strange alien tech deserved all their attention, especially when Mickey started tapping at it. "We agreed to use it only in extreme emergencies, as a warning system of sorts. Because the Year That Never was never happened there, Pete's World is a year ahead." Blank stares greeted him. "Their 2011 is our 2010. That's how Rose knew something was happening here when Davros stole the Earth since things were going wrong there."

"Hang on," Andy interjected, now standing in front of the couch since the humming stopped "The year that what?"

Mickey winced and glanced at Martha, who was glaring at the tech genius. While the Doctor had to explain to Mickey what had happened with Saxon after returning the Earth, Jack had only told Ianto and Mickey knew he should keep the others in the dark.

"Doesn't matter. The important thing is we can anticipate most crises here. It's like an earthquake detector but with alien threats."

"Then what about the 456?" Gwen asked, stepping around Rhys, her voice throaty as though she had been crying. "Where was your precious Rose and her warning system so we could have prevented Ianto-" She cut off in a harsh sob.

"It's not perfect," Mickey said sadly, standing to comfort his friend but she took a step back and he sat back down heavily on the computer chair. "Some major events happen here, but not there and vice versa. There is no Jack Harkness in that world, so everything he impacted here probably didn't happen there. That's nearly two centuries of changes." He looked over at Gwen, who started dully back. "Torchwood London blasted the 456 when they did try and invade. It's just hard to predict what is different there. Sometimes they're complete opposites like me and Rickey, or Pete and Jackie. And other times, well…Rose was Jackie's dog in that world."

Rhys snorted, but Andy seemed intrigued. "So I could be some big posh business man or something?"

Mickey grinned. "Maybe. Really, it depends on the actions you make here. See, every separate reality is actually made of the 'what ifs' of this world."

"So if you dropped out of college or ended up marrying someone here," Lois said slowly, "you could graduate with honors and turn them down there?"

"Or if you turned left instead of right."

"But some things are the same, right?" Gwen sniffed. "You said the 456 invaded there as well."

"More often things are similar when dealing with aliens," Mickey said, nodding. "We had a Racnos as well, but the Doctor and Rose destroyed her and Torchwood blasted her ship. But then again, Pete made health drinks just like he wanted to here."

"Are there Weevils as well?" Rhys asked.

"We're getting off point," Martha said sternly. She wasn't sure where alternate realities fell in the Doctor's rules of divulging Timey-Wimey-sensitive information, but she didn't want to risk it. "What does Rose say?"

Mickey returned his gaze to the communicator on the table. He pressed a few more seemingly invisible buttons. "It might take a moment for me to figure out the message. The devices only allow short bursts of information, unless they've been charging for a while, and her shorthand is sometimes hard to understand." He chuckled. "I think the Doctor-" Mickey stopped and stared at the message that appeared. "No way."

"What is it?" Lois asked as Martha leaned over Mickey's shoulder.

Martha gasped. "Oh my God."

* * *

Ianto Jones sat at the back counter of his shop, one eye on the door and the other on the coat he had been mending all morning. His business, A Stitch in Time, opened a year ago when he decided he didn't want to live off his family's money any longer but rather own his own tailor shop.

His father owned a very successful winery and was disappointed when his only son announced he wanted nothing to do with the family business. Being both a practical and family man, Dayffd Jones split his son's inheritance in half, giving one portion for whatever endeavor his son decided and saving the other for whoever he decided to give the company to run. This suited both Jones men just fine and Ianto eventually opened a shop in Cardiff, miles from his country childhood home.

Ianto finished the last stitch and smoothed the soft material over the counter. A young couple, Lisa and Gavin, he thought it was, found the greatcoat in their attic. They had no use for it, but wanted it mended so they could donate it to the historical society.

It looked from the World War II era, perhaps worn by an RAF pilot. The fabric felt familiar beneath his fingers and Ianto tried to think why. Oh yes, how could he have forgotten? It looked exactly like Jack's and he did love that coat.

A sharp pain dug into Ianto's head and he inhaled sharply. It grew more intense and he bent over, resting his head on the counter. He remembered waiting by the Bay for what felt like hours, a thermos in one hand and coffee mug in the other. He remembered the nerves and desperation, he needed this to work to save Lisa. He remembered the cold concrete floor of the warehouse and the heat of Jack's touch. He remembered the guilt, confusion and lust swirling in him and settling into a sour block in the pit of his stomach as he walked away.

Then just as quickly as it came, the pain disappeared. He sighed, straightening up. This had been happening ever since he had that strange dream three nights ago. Since then, he was remembering events that never took place and people he had never met, always accompanied by an intense headache. Most of the memories contained one Captain Jack Hakness, only he never knew a man by that name.

He did, though. His entire body and soul positively ached to be near him again. His fingers itched to run through soft hair, lips tingled with wanting to taste-Ianto stood abruptly. This was madness. How could he long for a man he never met?

Flashing bulbs and shouting reporters drew Ianto's attention to the television mounted on the wall. He watched as the cameraman struggled to get a shot of a field, empty save for a group of people behind some police tape. Possible alien artefact found, the ticker at the bottom of the screen read. Torchwood investigates, it continued as the camera zoomed in on the small group of people crouching and looking at something just out of the camera's range. A young man with longish ginger hair stood, PDA in hand. A blonde woman, looking not much older than he, joined him and they stared intently at whatever was on the PDA's screen.

Ianto knew her: Rose Tyler. She was the daughter of health drink mogul and Torchwood leader Pete Tyler and his wife, Jackie. Rose had been sent to boarding schools when she was young and only returned home a few months after the Cyberman had been destroyed. Now she was one of Torchwood's top agents and led their best team, along with the doctor, John Smith. The doctor came into full view on the telly as though summoned by Ianto's thoughts, peering at something through rectangular-framed glasses, some sort of metal tube in his hand. He looked up and smiled softly as Rose approached with a kit in hand.

Smith and Rose had started being seen together about a year ago and there were whispers about his immediate placement of second in command to the young woman. Their wedding was set for next month, according to reports and a bit of gossip. Ianto made it his point to know everything about, well, everything, and he wasn't above getting it from the local elderly women who liked to come in and coo over him.

But there was something else, a memory he seemed to have forgotten now tugging at the back of his brain. He had met the Doctor before…yes, he had seen him over the subwave network Harriet Jones set up when Daleks invaded. Rose he recognized from footage of the Battle at Canary Warf he had stumbled upon when cleaning Jack's office while the others worked on fixing the Hub and they all waited for Gwen to give up her vigil over Jack's body. Rose had unintentionally made Jack immortal, thousands of years into the future, just before abandoning him in space station full of corpses. Jack had told him everything about them, about everything that led him to that night after John Hart had been dealt with, after Jack had returned from his time with…the Doctor.

Rose Tyler and the Doctor. The alien Doctor who Jack had loved once, when he had a different face.

Ianto's brain caught up with itself and forced his thoughts to a halt. This was insane, he was going insane. How else would he have memories that weren't his own yet felt like they belonged to him?

"…surely have an answer soon, with Britain's top alien experts on the case. Harold Saxon, media liaison for Torchwood, will make an announcement…"

_Alien._ Had something alien done this to him? He could barely think the possibility, it sounded like something out of a comic, yet with the Cyberman and that star thing at Christmas and the public's knowledge of Torchwood, aliens weren't so far-fetched an idea anymore.

Whatever the reason, he had these memories of Rose Tyler and Doctor John Smith. They had to be able to help. Resolute, Ianto hung up the coat, grabbed his keys and closed up shop. Figuring in the time to grab the diary he had started after he had his first nightmare, as well as a change of clothes and essentials, Ianto would probably still beat the team to London. He would sit and wait for them as long as possible, he needed answers.

Ianto stalked across the Plass dotted with the shadows of the zeppelins, his mind already mapping out the quickest route to London, when he found himself in front of a dilapidated building. Looking around, he realized he had somehow ended up in front of the old tourist office on the Bay, where he had offered Jack a cup of coffee. And why not? He did work here after all. He reached in his pocket for the key to unlock the triple deadlock before he jerked, like waking violently from a dream, realizing what he was doing and thinking. Ianto stared at the door in horror. What the hell was going on?

He backed away from the door slowly and resisted the urge to run all the way to his flat. He needed answers and fast, before his mind was no longer his own.

After arguing for an hour with the receptionist who would have given Owen a run for his Prat of the Year award (who was Owen?) Ianto found himself thrust into a small room with a table and reflective glass. An interrogation room, then. He'd been in one like this once, when he was caught with a group of friends shoplifting during his short-lived rebellious stage and the local police tried to turn them on each other.

Time passed either slowly or quickly, he couldn't tell, but after some point raised voice reached his ears and grew louder before Doctor John Smith suddenly burst into the room.

"Hello there!" He said brightly, even as Rose continued to argue with her father just on the other side of the door. Apparently Pete Tyler felt a quiet tailor with a sudden influx of strange memories, demanding to see his top two agents was a threat to public safety. Ianto wasn't sure if he agreed with him or felt insulted.

The Doctor shut the door smartly on the arguing pair and studied Ianto quite seriously, though his grin remained. Ianto scrutinized him as well. He wore a very well-made suit of deep green, almost black, with lighter grey-green pinstripes. It looked custom, at least the fabric looked unfamiliar. The deep burgundy tie looked store bought, but expensive, and matched his chucks. That, coupled, with the outrageous hair gave the doctor the look of an eccentric.

"Jones, Ianto Jones," he said eventually, but strangely, like his tongue was testing out the words. He leaned back against the glass and studied Ianto again.

_Nice to meet you Jones, Ianto Jones._ The pain in his head was sharp and fleeting, like a pinprick, and Ianto did his best to not even blink. John Smith continued to stare, as though he could peer into his very soul.

"Jack spoke of you often," he said finally. He tilted his head, as though listening for something.

"I don't know any Jack Harkness," Ianto said softly, respectfully, but firmly.

Smith just smiled, as though Ianto had answered his question. "Did I say Harkness?" He tugged on his ear in mock thought. "No matter, you do know him. I'd go so far as to say you love him. At least, part of you does."

Ianto was really losing his patience. He came here for help, not mind games. "Sir, I have really had enough riddles for one day."

"Allons-y then! What is your birth date?" He pushed off the wall, crossed his arms across his chest and took a step forward.

Ianto was slightly thrown off but answered anyway. "August 19, 1983."

"That's funny, the record we have on file says March 28, 1983."

Ianto stilled, terrified. "What's wrong with me?" He whispered.

"Not a thing."

"But-"

"So!" He almost shouted, launching himself into a chair. "What does a tailor/Torchwood archivist want with me and Rose?" He peered at Ianto over his glasses.

"I'm not a member of Torchwood," Ianto answered automatically.

"Oh no? Tell me then, what is the standard procedure when encountering a non-hostile extraterrestrial within Torchwood perimeters?"

"Demand race, planet and reason for infiltration. If they refuse, detain for further questioning." The words tumbled out before Ianto knew what he was saying. He met the Doctor's eyes, scared. John Smith raised an eyebrow.

"One more. Why did CCTV cameras pick you up in front of the visitor's entrance to Torchwood Cardiff?"

Ianto swallowed hard. He had forgotten about the cameras. "There's no such thing."

Smith leaned in. "Not in this world."

Ianto mimicked the action. "Please sir, I need answers. Something isn't right and the only thing I know is I remember you as though I've met you before. Something is wrong with me and you're the only one who can help!"

"Nothing is wrong with you, Ianto Jones." He said gently as Rose entered with an evidence bag in hand. She smiled warmly to Ianto as she handed the bag to her fiancée. He dumped the contents, some sort of strange, peanut-shaped device with a dial on one end and a screen on the other, onto the table. It also had connections on one side, like something plugged into it. Ianto stared at it while the Doctor and Rose stared at him.

"Know what it is?" The Doctor asked quietly. Ianto shook his head, eyes glued to the nondescript object. It was the closest thing to alien life he'd ever been. He thought. He wasn't sure anymore. "It's used by the Enfros, though it came from technology used by the Brigone. They invaded…"

_Ianto, are we at war and you didn't tell me?_

_Yes sir, and by the way I asked these aliens to pop in and help._

"Ianto?"

Ianto shook his head clear and looked over at the Doctor. "Sorry, sir. So it's alien technology. What does it do?"

The Doctor smiled broadly. "Very well done, Jones Ianto Jones! Most people would demand what it has to do with them, I'm very impressed. The Enfros are a trade race, but not in antiques or food or those cute little statues of the-right," he picked up the device after Rose elbowed him. Ianto hid a smirk. "No, they use this to trade souls. Well, there's another half, but…"

"Souls?" Ianto whispered. He glanced at Rose who was looking at the device with the same wonder he was sure was on his face.

"Well, they call them essences, sort of. Their language is very hard to translate into English. The closest name you'll get to the actual one in this language is a soul collector. The Enfros travel the galaxy with this looking for souls just hanging about, ripe for the stealing."

"So they're like ghosts, then, rather than souls."

"Yes! Well, sort of. You see, the stronger the emotion connected to a death, the longer the soul lingers. This," Placed the collector back on the table and pointed to the screen, "works as a radar. It measures the intensity of death-related emotion. They use this like a radio dial to hone in on the signal." He fiddled with the red dial inscribed in strange markings.

"If you tweak the settings just right, you can find the strongest emotion in connection with that death within five miles. That's how they get the most money: con the grieving out of as much money as possible. What's material belongings or inconsequential gold when a loved one's soul could be with you forever?" His eyes and tone had darkened, sending shivers down Ianto's spine. He wasn't sure what to say or to think. Alien devices that collect souls definitely sounded fictional, yet there it sat. "How did it get here?" He asked after a moment.

"It came through the Rift, only we don't know where or when it came from," Rose answered sadly. "See, there's a rift running through time and space, and it runs straight through Car-London." Her eyes flickered toward the Doctor at her slip-up but he was still looking at Ianto. "Most of the alien stuff we collect comes through there."

"Okay..." Ianto said slowly, still struggling to take it all in. This had grown so much bigger from strange dreams and memories and it shook him. How else was he supposed to react? "Then, what does this-"

"-have to do with you?" The Doctor leaned back and rested his feet on the table. "You see, we're still not quite sure. But-" he said loudly over the start of Ianto's protests, "we have an idea. We know it has to do with the dreams you told the other agents about before you were taken here. It also has to do with the memories and the headaches. We've contacted some people who will help us verify, but in the meantime, tell us about your dreams again."

Ianto Jones pulled out his diary.

* * *

_Ianto remembers his life there. Need questions to verify. Should we ask if he wants to cross over?_

Lois sat in the tourist office, anxious and impatient. The others were down in the Hub, they had started discussing what to do about Rose's message and it soon turned into recalling memories of Ianto, so she escaped here after a while. She felt awed by merely his name, as the others had built him up to such a great stature and was still intimidated taking over his responsibilities, including this place. Yet it made her feel closer to him as well, like she had been initiated into some secret club. The Gatekeepers of Torchwood.

She imagined they were both average people, content with normal lives, not very talented at anything specific but very organized and able to adapt to whatever their superiors needed before suddenly being thrust into the world of Torchwood. Only he had risen above his beginnings, and Lois still felt very much like a child at the adult's table. So much went over her head and while everyone was very willing to help, it frustrated her that she couldn't immediately be up to their speed.

She had read Ianto's file, and on nights when Gwen was exhausted and hormonal, heard stories about the archivist. He had been through more than any human being so young should have to go through and now they were willing to put him through even more.

* * *

Lois slowly entered the Hub to the sound of Mickey and Gwen shouting at each other. Seems their discussion returned back to deciding what to do about Ianto. It kept them from facing the realization that whatever happened now had very little to do with them. Gwen clung to one option and one option only: bring Ianto back.

"We can't just drag him over here, the machine that Rose used with Donna was destroyed. Besides, he probably has a life of his own and a job that has nothing to do with Torchwood." Mickey argued, the strain in his voice indicating Gwen refused to listen to his repeated argument.

"But it's Ianto," Gwen insisted.

"Yes, Ianto, who might have a wife and kids; Ianto, with a huge family that will miss him if he just disappears!" Mickey was getting more frustrated by the minute and it seemed he and Gwen were the only ones in the discussion. Lois sidled up to Martha, who was leaning against the autopsy railing, looking down at the two fighting over the table. Rhys stood on the opposite side of the circle and Andy sat on the steps.

"Ianto, with a wife and kids? That doesn't sound like him at all," Gwen insisted, crossing her arms.

"Exactly! Because he's not your Ianto. He's the other world's Ianto."

"Who's remembering his life here, remembering us."

"But just because he's remembering it doesn't mean he's living it."

"How do you mean?" Lois asked. Mickey looked up as though he just realized the others were standing there.

"I think that he may be having these memories but they aren't like real memories to him. I don't have any proof, but from what I can tell from the translation program and what's happened, whatever the device collects must have jogged his memories from this world since it was here originally and since alternate worlds are branches from this one, it's possible our other selves have our memories locked deep inside. But it's like when you watch a home movie of your first trip to the beach: You know it happened since there's proof, but you can't remember how the sun felt or the ice cream tasted."

"So like the device was just holding the movie film," Rhys said slowly. "And when it went over to the other world, it began to play in Ianto's head?"

"But that doesn't even make sense!" Gwen cried. "We don't even know the Enfros' device has anything to do with this."

"Yeah, but I'd rather think it does until we know otherwise," Martha said. "I've even tried getting a hold of the Doctor, but he isn't answering." She frowned. "He knows when it's me calling, he always answers."

"I'm still not convinced bringing Ianto here isn't the best thing for him." Gwen returned to the original subject stubbornly. "He's remembering us and you don't even know that he isn't our Ianto, that if the device did put the memories back into his body he isn't glad to have them. Why can't you just accept that something good may be happening for the first time in months?"

"And what is he supposed to do with his memories from the other world if he came here?" Mickey demanded. "Ignore them? Ignore the love he felt, the life he lived, the person he was just so you can be happy again? I'd rather not expect anything then to constantly demand the world give me my way." His anger had overturned his rational side and it wasn't until he spoke the words did Mickey realize it.

"Hold on," Rhys said sharply. "Don't speak to her like that. And I wouldn't mind having Ianto back. It's like everything's gone off balance since he's been gone. Like we all have something missing."

"Even if he were to come back, there's nothing to say that he'll want anything to do with us, or Jack. They might not even be able to get over it and get back together."

"It worked for Rose's parents," Martha pointed out quietly.

"But that's not the same." Mickey looked at her incredulously. He had told her about his time in Pete's World in confidence and trusted her to keep it secret, but she knew Jack and Ianto better than him, they couldn't live without each other. The aftermath of 456 was just the beginning. Jack would spiral even more if they didn't help.

"Why not?" Gwen asked, her voice starting to choke with frustrated tears. Mickey had seen her with Jack, and without him, and knew that she wanted him back because she felt she needed him, that she couldn't lead without him and perhaps thought she loved him. But she didn't understand what bringing the other Ianto here meant. Rose did, which is why he was still shocked at her suggestion.

"Our Pete and Jackie got married because she was pregnant, five months after they met. He died when Rose was just a baby, they never had a chance to get to know each other properly! And the other Jackie…" Mickey ran a hand over his face as Gwen stared at him impassively. "Pete never talked about her, but from what Rose told me, she was completely different. And whatever it was that made Pete fall in love with her in the first place was gone long before she died. Whatever happy memories he had with her were completely overshadowed by their marriage problems in the end. They were completely different people. The Pete from his world and the Jackie from ours fell in love because it's what they had been missing."

"But they made it work, right?" Gwen asked.

"That's because they didn't really have anything to compare it to! But Jack's got his memories; he will always remember his Ianto and how it felt to have him die in his arms. Even if we did bring the other Ianto over, even if what Rose is saying about him is true, it would never be the same."

"But how do you know? Rose said he's remembering things our Ianto went through. How do you know he won't be the same?"

"Because I had to go through it." He had never planned on telling the others about in the alternate world, it was too private. He barely told Martha every detail, yet they needed to know if only to completely grasp what they wanted to do. "I was happy to have another chance with my Gran, and for the most part she was the same. But then I'd tell a story of a moment we never shared or she'd remember something Rickey did when he was a kid and it would be like this huge hole, gaping between us, even though she never knew. I would always have it in the back of my head that it wasn't quite right. Jack has even more of those memories, of those moments. They will always come between them. He might not act the same and there will be the physical differences too."

"What do you mean?" Andy asked, speaking for the first time since Lois joined the discussion.

"He won't have the same scars. Everything he had from Canary Warf and the Beacons, all of it will be gone." Ianto and he had bonded in the few months Mickey had spent at Torchwood Cardiff. They both understood what it meant to have their world completely changed by loving a person who loved the Doctor. It allowed them to trust each other with things they didn't trust usual strangers: Ianto told him about his life in Torchwood and Mickey had told him about his time with Jake and the Preachers. And Jake. Mickey mentally shook his head and stared hard at the others. "In the end all of you, Jack especially, will always know that he isn't your Ianto Jones."

"Listen," Martha cut in over Gwen's reply. "It's not late but we're all exhausted. We've been working for three weeks straight on this. Why don't we all take tomorrow off to rest and talk about this later? If that's okay with you Gwen," she added quickly. The older woman would have put up a fight, especially after Martha's threat days before, but she just nodded.

"But we still need to send them questions for Ianto," Mickey pointed out. "I know of something only he and I talked about, but we need more."

"How about that time we got royally pissed and covered Gwen in post-its?" They all stared at Rhys, who shrugged. "What? It seemed a good idea at the time."

Martha shook her head in amusement. "Alright, that's two, how about one more?" They all sat in silence for a while before Martha grew a bit impatient. "Fine, ask him what Jack wanted me to get for Ianto."

"Well? What was it?" Lois asked when it seemed Martha wasn't going to continue.

"A UNIT cap." Martha smirked. "Apparently they…dabbled."

"Oh yeah," Gwen said, laughing. Rhys made an indignant noise. "I didn't mean to walk in on them!" She blushed and the others chuckled. "Mickey, you'll send those to the Doctor and Rose, right?" Gwen asked a little coolly, getting back to business. It seemed she didn't quite forget their argument. He nodded. "Lois, please gather everything we have on the Enfros and all the satellite and video you can on our alien visitor from the other night. We'll look back further if we need to. Make copies and give one to everyone so we can go home." She climbed up the steps and over Andy as she spoke. "Look them over if you want, but be ready to attack this the day after tomorrow." She glanced at her watch. "Right, so we should all be out of here by midnight."

Half an hour later, Lois handed out the packets, neatly gathered in clear folios. Martha took hers and with absent-minded goodbyes to the others, nearly ran out the door. There was someone she needed to see, someone who could help answer the biggest question of all.

* * *

After answering some personal and rather strange questions from an odd looking piece of plastic Rose had brought in, and a lengthy explanation of alternate realities that left Ianto's head spinning, the Doctor had suggested they continue their conversation in a more comfortable setting, such as his office. But as they walked down the labyrinth of halls Ianto couldn't quite remember, he wondered if they had needed that room for a real criminal.

Suddenly a sharp pain pierced his head and he hissed at the brutality of it. Ianto staggered a bit and faintly heard Rose asking if he were alright. He tried to answer but the pain increased. Just as he felt the Doctor and Rose take his arms and help him walk to the office memories poured out in front of him: memories of Jack, of his sister (he's never had a sister) and his niece and nephew, of Tosh and Owen (their deaths still hurt so much. But who were they?) and... of his own death. The dream that had started this all had been his death.

Linoleum flooring gave way to carpet beneath his shoes, but Ianto noticed little else about the office. They sat him in a chair and suddenly pain blossomed in his lungs and his abdomen. He doubled over, struggling to keep his breathing constant. Memories bounced around his head and he could barely focus on one before another flashed in front of him. It was dizzying and terrifying and he couldn't catch his breath. He heard Rose calling out his name and felt cool hands on his temples.

"Ianto, Ianto Jones listen to me," the Doctor's voice was soft and soothing. "I need to get inside your head and balance out the memories. The pain is coming from the two souls battling for dominance. This is only temporary as I need a few more preparations for a more permanent solution but it will make the pain go away. Please."

Ianto nodded. _Please, just make it stop,_ he thought. Suddenly it felt like someone was flipping through his memories as though they were pages in a book; memories, feelings, flashes of emotions raced through him and he couldn't breathe. Then the pain slowly dissipated and the cool hands slipped away. Ianto sat up slowly, closing his eyes against the strange sensation of blood rushing away from his head. He opened them to see Rose looking him over in concern and the Doctor in worried concentration.

"What's happening to him, Doctor?" Rose asked a few more moments of silence.

"That's the problem with having too many memories," he murmured, eyes scanning Ianto's face. "Not enough room." He stood. "That was just a taste of what is to come if we don't get your souls balanced out," he said louder as he walked around the huge oak desk. The entire office reminded Ianto of a college professor's with huge dark bookcases, globes and strange maps that looked familiar. Maybe Jack had them in his own office in the Hub? Before it was destroyed. The pain returned but Ianto swallowed and ignored it. The desk sat covered in piles of paper as well as a few strange-looking contraptions. The Doctor shuffled through the papers as though looking for something.

"What happens now?" Ianto asked just as the Doctor pulled out a piece of paper with a flourish, which knocked down several file folders in the process, their innards spilling across the floor.

"Well, now I'm going to find a suitable place for me to spend a long time in your mind and balance out your souls."

"And you're just assuming I'll let you?"

"What?" The Doctor asked lowly, looking up from his perusal of the paper. "You'd rather live with the pain? Because if we don't get your souls to make nice, eventually your tiny human brain won't be able to withstand the pressure and it'll explode. Poof. No more Ianto Jones. Either of him."

Ianto clenched his fists against the man's (or alien's?) voice. His head was throbbing and he just wanted to curl into bed for days and pray this was all a dream. "Since I obviously don't have a choice in the matter, what happens to me after?" He asked eventually, looking up. Now the Doctor was writing on the paper after setting it on top of a precarious pile of more papers while Rose filled a glass with water from a wet bar of sorts Ianto missed in his original sweep of the room.

The Doctor's gaze turned sad. "I'm so sorry, but…you'll have to decide."

"Decide?"

"You'll have to choose whether you want to live in this world or that one."

Ianto gaped at him for a moment. "You mean I have to choose between the life I've always known, my life, and a life that was forced on me by some alien?" He stood, ready to...he wasn't sure what but something to expel this anger and frustration. It had been a tiring and long 24 hours and Ianto wasn't sure he could take any more. But punching the Doctor seemed like a good solution at the moment, as anger beat out all other emotions.

Suddenly, he remembered. He remembered the anger he felt in the warehouse, as God knows what was happening to the others with that space whale. He remembered the dark power of holding a gun, so many times itching to pull the trigger, and later trying to make sense of his violent thoughts. He remembered the rush of the chase and...Lisa. Oh God, Lisa. She was alive here, not pulled to pieces and covered in blood. She was married to one of his best mates, Gavin, and they were happy and alive, things Ianto could never give her, even now. At least she had a chance for a life, even if it wasn't with him.

He remembered too the peaceful hours spent in the archives, the seemingly endless amount of artifacts to categorize and put safely away. He remembered the few quiet moments with Jack, when they spoke of nothing but themselves and Ianto tricked himself into believing they would be together forever.

With a loud gasp Ianto staggered back into the chair. He ran his hands over his face only to realize he had been crying. He looked over at Rose and the Doctor, who were staring at him with concern and pity. He looked away.

"It's starting, isn't it? These are your memories, Ianto Jones. All of them." The Doctor asked as he crouched in front of the young man. "This life you've lived here is no less important than the one you lived in the other reality. Never forget that both lives have equal importance. An ordinary man has just as much impact on the world as one of the greatest Torchwood agents in Cardiff." He stood with a sigh. "This may sound ridiculous to you now, but being able to choose between them is the greatest chance you'll ever have."

Ianto didn't answer, but closed his eyes against the soothing voice. He needed space, he needed to think but his head felt so full he could barely function. He opened his eyes and matched the Doctor's gaze. "I don't know what to do." He whispered.

"Doctor," Rose said quietly. She stood not far from them, still clutching the glass. "Give us a minute, will you?" The Doctor turned and looked at Rose sadly for a moment before nodding.

"I've got to get this form for a room down to...somewhere." He looked over the piece of paper he had been writing on earlier. "I usually don't deal with the proper channels, but Pete's been on my case about..." He trailed off when he realized neither Rose nor Ianto were really paying attention to him. "Right." And with that, he left the room.

Rose slowly approached Ianto, who had returned his head between his hands. His mind was racing, hundreds of thoughts and memories battled for purchase and he felt like he was drowning. The soft clink of a glass on wood distracted him and he looked over to see Rose sitting beside him, her brown eyes warm with sympathy.

"I know what you're going through, sort of. " She said softly. Ianto scoffed. "I do! I was stuck here in this world after Canary Warf." The name of his old workplace stung and for a moment Ianto could hear the screams in perfect clarity and smell the ozone and blood. His muscles strained with the efforts of dragging Lisa to safety before they could take her away to kill her like the rest. But wasn't this the same building? It should have triggered so many memories, but after Pete Tyler took over the entire place had been gutted and redone, Ianto supposed as a way to help his daughter.

He drew in a shaky breath and struggled to focus on the present as Rose continued talking. "I was lucky, I had Mickey and my mum to talk to, but for the most part I was alone. Alone in a strange world with memories of people who didn't know me and things that never happened." She laughed. "One of the first things I did here was look up my best mate, Shareen. Back in the other world we were inseparable. We played together all the time as kids, we got drunk together, everything." She grinned and Ianto found himself returning the smile, it was infectious. "She's a journalist here, an editor actually. One of the top writers in Britain. She's got a big posh house in the country as well as a huge flat in the city. She hated writing when I knew her, but she always wanted to get out of the estate."

Ianto nodded, remembering his own adolescent dreams of escaping from the gangs who stole cars and the constant reminder from his father that he would never amount to anything more than a kid from the estate. Only, he lived in the country with his wealthy father, didn't he? Rose seemed to sense his returning panic and placed a small hand on his shoulder. "I suppose my point is that even with the differences, this place has become home to me. And if you do choose to go over there, you'll feel alone and scared but with the help of Martha and Mickey and Gwen and the others you'll get settled in and soon you'll feel like you've always lived there."

Ianto didn't say anything, just focused on her words for a while, adding it to the mental list he was creating on the pros and cons of leaving this world. This was his life, how could he leave? Even with these memories, and the Doctor would help him sort those out, he couldn't fathom leaving everything behind: his childhood, his business or even his father.

But what about Jack and Gwen? They were the only things left of the original Torchwood Cardiff with the Hub and everything inside it destroyed. He couldn't just abandon them, especially since he knew Jack had probably run away after his death, leaving Gwen to pick up the pieces alone. Jack had told him just after Tosh and Owen's deaths that he was starting to become disenchanted with Torchwood. Ianto answered that it spoke to Jack's character that it only took him 200 years to get tired with it, while inwardly guessing it also had to do with his renewed communication with the Doctor. Later that night, when Ianto was nearly asleep, Jack whispered that if anything were to happen to Ianto, he wasn't sure he could stay in Torchwood or on this planet. He had permeated every inch of both and now Jack couldn't think of living here without Ianto. At the time it had filled Ianto with such love and warmth that he nearly forgot his doubts when watching Jack in his sleep, but now Ianto was sure that Jack meant it to the point of desertion.

Ianto sighed, leaning his head back against the chair and closed his eyes, feeling Rose's eyes on him the entire time. It was kind of unnerving how she could just sit and watch him, yet it was reassuring at the same time.

"You didn't answer Mickey's question," she said after a few more moments of silence. Ianto cracked one eye open and glanced at Rose. "The three questions Mickey sent over, one of them was 'What did Ianto and Mickey talk about two months after Mickey joined Torchwood?' and you said it was private and rather not answer it. And the only answer given was Cyberman." Rose had thought it best not to voice that in front of the Doctor, he was still very tetchy about those particular enemies.

"It is private," Ianto answered, sitting up straight. "But really I didn't answer because I didn't want to upset the Doctor." Mickey had sworn him not to tell, but what harm could it do if they were a reality away?

"What do you mean?"

"I'll tell you if you promise not to say anything to the Doctor unless he brings it up. Or say anything about it in your messages to Mickey." From what he could remember of what Jack and Mickey told him about Rose and the Doctor, Ianto knew it would have been futile to make her promise not to say anything to the Doctor. But he also knew that if Mickey ever found out he said anything, it would ruin their friendship. Rose nodded eagerly. "We talked about you."

"Me?"

Ianto smiled and thought back, ignoring the little pinpricks of pain blossoming across his forehead.

_Ianto moved quietly around the tourist centre, replacing old pamphlets, dusting and making sure the front for an international secret organization kept up appearances. Though Ianto's job had expanded over the past months, he insisted that he continued his work up here. It would seem strange, he argued to Jack, if the centre just closed without any explanation._

_Just as Ianto sat at the computer, Mickey walked through the entrance from the Hub. He plopped down a grease-soaked napkin holding a piece of pepperoni pizza that Ianto did not remember ordering, before leaning against the counter and shoving his own pizza into his mouth._

_"What are you doing up here?" Mickey asked around the large bite of cheese and grease. "Everyone's downstairs having a good time, for the first time since we got here and you're up here...dusting?" He picked up the rag Ianto had been wiping down the counter with between his forefinger and thumb. Ianto grabbed it and threw it back on the counter. He said nothing as he picked the meat off before nibbling at the cooling pizza for a while. Mickey finished his own slice quickly before leaning his arms on the countertop. "Come on then, what is it?"_

_Though Ianto and Mickey had become close quickly over the past eight weeks, Ianto wasn't sure how much he felt safe telling the other man as he barely acknowledged some of these issues to himself. But, his inner voice argued, if there were anyone who would understand, it was Mickey. Sighing, he put down the barely touched slice and wiped his fingers on a still-clean corner of the napkin. "I don't...I don't want to sound rude or ungrateful, but you and Martha have had a lot of experiences similar to Jack's, spent time with him outside of here and you seem...you seem to have a better understand of what he's gone through and it's just very-" he broke off, blushing. Saying all this out loud sounded rather childish. "I feel that he would rather recount tales of traveling with the Doctor than be with me. And Gwen. Us. Be with us," he added hastily. He sighed deeply. "It just feels like it did before he left the first time."_

_Mickey studied Ianto for a moment. "I may have traveled with the Doctor," he said eventually. "But that doesn't mean I understand what Jack's been through, no one does, not even the Doctor. But I truly don't understand wanting to travel with him." Ianto's head shot up, but didn't interrupt. "I wouldn't mind if that's the last time I ever fly in that stupid box."_

_Ianto frowned. "Now I don't understand. You've traveled with him, I thought you liked him."_

_"I respect him and what he does for us and the rest of the universe and the cost he has to pay for it." He shrugged. "But give me a Cyberman any day; they're easier to figure out." Ianto's confused look flickered with pain and Mickey regretted his slip. He had only heard about Lisa recently. "The only reason I went with the Doctor was because of Rose. By then I knew I had lost her to him, so I wanted to see why. I needed to understand why I wasn't good enough." He paused slightly at Ianto's sharp inhale, confirming Mickey's suspicion that led him up here in the first place. "I found out she belonged with him so much more than me. They were meant for one another, as sappy as that sounds. But it's true. I've never seen two people complete each other like that."_

_Ianto looked down at his forgotten pizza sadly. So that was his fate: to be deserted for the Doctor, if he didn't die first._

_"Now Jack," Mickey said into Ianto's silence. "Jack has had a least two opportunities to go with the Doctor and instead came back here. I have no doubt it has everything to do with you-"_

_"And Gwen," Ianto interjected. He refused to let himself think he that important to Jack. It would only hurt more when Jack eventually left._

_"No, he came back for you." Mickey said firmly. When Ianto didn't respond Mickey sighed. There wasn't more he could do besides be there to listen when Ianto needed it. He straightened up and tapped his fingers on the cracked countertop. "So really, I understand what you're going through more than I understand Jack."_

Ianto returned to the present, ignoring the sharp pain in his head. Rose was staring at him with tears running down his cheeks and he decided it was probably best not to mention the rest of the conversation, when Ianto managed to get Mickey to open up about Jake. While he knew Rose knew Jake had died, Mickey said he never told her how. He and Jake had been on their last mission for the Preachers before becoming full-fledged Torchwood agents when a few of their group ended up turning on them and shooting Jake right in front of Mickey before leaving them both to die.

_"So," Mickey said, "I know what it's like to have someone you love murdered by the people you trusted." Ianto hadn't tried to explain that the Cyberwoman hadn't been Lisa since Canary Warf because then he'd think of Annie with blood running down her face, recalling a memory she shouldn't have known. But after that night, he and Mickey shared a bond they couldn't forge with anyone else and Ianto liked to think it helped the other man with the pain of losing his lover._

"Ianto?" Rose's voice broke his thoughts and Ianto tried to smile reassuringly at her.

"Sorry," he said faintly. "I was just-"

Suddenly the door burst open and a very excited Doctor bounded in. "Sorry to interrupt but two very important things just happened: my paperwork went through for the room, a very rare occurrence indeed, and more importantly: the Noble Machine is functional!"

Rose jumped up at this. "Really? Have they run the tests yet?"

"Just waiting for you, Madam Creator," he said with a flourish. She ran out of the room, shouting goodbye over her shoulder. The Doctor smiled broadly at her retreating form but sobered a bit when he turned toward Ianto.

"Now Ianto Jones, it's time for you to remember who you are."


	3. Chapter 3

Jack entered his darkened base house wearily and threw his keys on the side-table without turning on the lights. It had come furnished, which was lucky since he had nothing but his bag. He had just come from a status report with the Colonel and the concerned look on the superior's face only cemented Jack's original fear: this was going to be tough. Very tough.

Alex, of course, had his mind only on the training of the men. It was lucky this squadron wasn't going into active duty any time soon, Jack really wondered about those who supervised their basic training. Almost none of them could fire a weapon accurately and Jack was not looking forward to flight simulation tomorrow. They could follow orders, however; and were all very intelligent. They'd do well for the base police force it seemed they were destined to become a part of, but Jack was still worried about his ability to lead them: the first time one of them called him sir Jack had to dismiss them early before they witnessed their leader breaking down. It seemed his plan to use his time here to heal was backfiring quite spectacularly.

He couldn't look at any of them in the eyes longer than to bark out orders and they made it easier when they wore their impassive masks of men in rank. But when the atmosphere turned casual, they all turned to him in hero-worship. Jack constantly reconsidered this decision, though it had only been four days, and prayed for the day when he would be able to be in their presence without a lump of tears in his chest, especially Greg Hutchinson.

He had been the one Jack saw through the door his first day, and Jack still had to do a double take at times before coming to the disappointing realization he wasn't Ianto. He had been the first one to call him sir; he was the one always asking for extra gun training; he was the one who Jack feared the most would break him.

He, like the others, made up his general lack of military knowledge in eagerness to learn how to defend their county. They all had the desire of little boys wanting to be soldiers and die in a glorious hail of bullets, but Hutchinson had that sense of a boy who had grown up too soon.

Just like Ianto.

Jack crossed the sparsely decorated room and entered the kitchen; the house still plunged in darkness. He grabbed the closest container of leftovers and set it on the table. Cold Chinese tonight. He could only avoid Hutchinson for so long; the excuses of settling in and copious amounts of paperwork couldn't last much longer. But it felt like his heart broke a little bit more every time he stared into those clear blue eyes. Had he not known that Ianto's nephew was 10 years old and living in Cardiff, he would have had a DNA test done on Hutchinson. If Jack didn't have any proof that the universe hated him, he did now

The greasy chow mein sat heavily on Jack's stomach and for a moment he thought he would be sick. He didn't sleep anymore, reverting to his lifestyle when he had waited for the Doctor, when he spent lifetimes with half of his soul missing. He didn't know then that the minutes of agony were not because he was missing the Time Lord, but it was because he was missing Ianto.

Jack's train of thought made his feet take him to the rarely used study and he finally turned on a solitary lamp on the desk in the middle of the room. It was another sign the universe wasn't done using Jack as its personal plaything. The desk in the room was nearly identical to the one in Ianto's flat, only this had dark wood and gleaming brass fixtures. Instead of the oval with inlaid wood, this desk had Her Majesty's Armed Forces tri-service badge carved into the lid.

Though Jack kept Ianto's diary and the stopwatch on him at all times, he had placed the letters he found in here. He hadn't had the courage to look at them yet since he knew it was possible these were some sort of goodbye letters, or letters written to him in hate during Ianto's four week suspension after they killed the Cyberman that took over Lisa's body. But somehow, it felt right to read them now. Maybe doing so would relieve some of this constant ache.

With shaking hands Jack took the letters, the desk's only contents and sat in an armchair settled in the corner of the room, gripping the watch in his pocket. He carefully removed the ribbon and draped it over the arm of the chair. Jack's vision blurred and he rubbed at his eyes only to find his cheeks wet. He traced his fingers of the neat print he knew so well and took a deep breath. The Chinese churned in his stomach as Jack opened the top letter.

_Dear Jack,_

_If you're reading this, I'm either dying or have died. If it's the last, I hope I died bravely, but knowing my luck it was rather idiotic and quite embarrassing._

Jack let out a wet chuckle, ignoring the bile at the back of his throat. He had known he would die before Jack had a chance to walk away, didn't he? He had promised Jack as he had laid in a coma that he would fight for him, and yet he always knew.

_The thing is Jack, I don't know what these letters say, exactly. Just after you returned and we got rid of John Hart I found these in my desk with a letter. From myself. According to the letter, which is the one after this, Harold Saxon was insane and destroyed most of the world. Tosh, Owen, Gwen and I managed to find a place to hide for some time from his forces. But you were on the Valiant, with him. He tortured you. For a year he would torture you and broadcast it to anything with a signal, just to bring Martha back. It killed me. I can't remember it but it still kills me._

Here the words were smudged from fallen tears. Whether they were his or Ianto's, Jack didn't know, but he refused to let his mind bring up memories of Ianto's body, broken and bloody, being shot from an airlock.

_I wrote to you every day for that year, according to the letter, and the ribbon is technology from the Brigone. Remember them? You nearly started a war over Jordin Sparks._

_That must be why I recognized the name, because I had discovered this material during that year. We figured out a way to make it malleable and turn it into ribbon. Tosh used most of it for her time lock, and wrote herself a note with some of this ribbon around it, explaining what it was. That's why I have these letters, but no memories. I wish I could remember, maybe it would have helped me get over my fear of losing you to the Doctor, maybe it would have helped explain the time you were away with him, and why you were so changed when you returned. Whenever we fight about secrets, whenever I feel like you will never let me get close, I sit here and stare at these letters. If I could only bring myself to read them, maybe I could understand._

_But I haven't read them, I don't know if I ever will. I'm giving them to you because I know you remember that year and I now know it's what woke you screaming in the middle of the night for months after you returned. I wish I had the strength the read them so I could help you, so I wouldn't have to keep pushing you to open up to me, but they're your moments to tell, not mine._

_Like I said, if you're reading this, then I'm gone now. And I'd like to think you miss me, as egotistical as that is._

You have no idea how I will always hurt.

_But please, Jack, please don't give up, okay? Please don't stop living your life. I don't want your world to end because I'm not there. You have so much good to do, so many lives to change, like you did mine. And Gwen, Tosh and Owen. And the hundreds you met over the years. Who knows how many others will have better lives because of you? I'm not worth losing all that potential._

Yes you are, you are worth that and more. If only I had told you how much you meant to me, how important you are to my very existence. If only I hadn't been so damned scared to let you in.

_I just ask that you remember me as long as you can. I will love you forever, cariad._

_Ianto._

The final words were too much like the broken plea ripped from Ianto's dying breath and Jack couldn't hold back the tears any longer. He curled himself into the chair and for the first time since he watched his grandson die, he cried.

* * *

Ianto lay on the hospital bed in the bare room, his head spinning. He felt like every moment of both his lives had just been pulled through a stretcher before thrown on the wall as he was forced to relive every single one. Tears streamed silently down his cheeks as he remembered the last time he spoke to his sister. Did she miss him? Did Mica and David, or had they already forgotten the uncle they barely knew? He tried to be good to them, but Torchwood, bloody Torchwood always took him away when he tried to visit.

Torchwood. It was gone now, just a crater in the center of the Plass. Or had it been rebuilt? His heart thumped at the memories after the bomb exploded: running from the snipers, so fucking scared of that car in the alley and wanting nothing more than to have Jack in his arms again.

And what about Jack? Did he move on? Their last argument echoed in his head, the frustration and pain of constantly being locked out of Jack's life slid hot down his throat as he tried to get rid of the dryness that settled there after the procedure. The Doctor had left some time ago to get him something to drink. It felt like hours since he had been left alone here.

Ianto rolled on his side, his arm pressing uncomfortably against cold table and did his best to ignore his reflection in the two-way mirror. This had to be some other form of an interrogation room. How many people were on the other side, watching him like he used to watch the Weevils in their cells? His eyes flicked up toward the reflective glass, took in his appearance and quickly looked away. He had a full beard and mustache, his hair was longer and his eyes didn't seem quite so tired. He looked so different now, would they recognize him in the other reality?

If only he could talk to Tosh, she always gave him the analytical point of view when he had lost focus, and a sympathetic ear when he needed it the most. But that was impossible now. He couldn't even go to her in this world, she wouldn't know him. He only hoped she had somehow found Owen here and they would finally have a chance at what they had struggled to hold on to in their last months.

He flopped onto his back and sighed. His mind began to return to Jack, as it seemed it always would. But he couldn't think about that now, now he had to make the biggest decision of his life. Both of them.

What was he going to do?

* * *

"Tom, I'm sorry but I'm already here," Martha sighed from her hotel room in London. Her husband wasn't too happy to hear her voicemail after a 12-hour shift rather than greeting her in person and didn't like the fact she had used her day off on mysterious personal business.

"I trust you Martha, but it's frustrating to know we both have today off and instead of spending it together, you'll be in London."

"I know and I'm sorry but this will only take a couple of hours. Maybe not that long if I pull a few strings." She checked her watch: 8 a.m. She had five hours of sleep after checking in, which wasn't ideal before meeting the general, but she had worked on less. "I'll be home in time for dinner at the latest. Then we can have all night to ourselves."

Tom heaved a sigh in what Martha knew wasn't mock annoyance. His patience with her job only ran so far and she had been pushing it lately with trying to take the more challenging jobs away from Gwen.

"Fine, just be safe okay? I love you."

"Love you." Martha shut the phone slowly. She would explain it all to him when she got home, and he would understand, he had to. Opening her phone with a sigh, Martha dialed the number she knew from memory.

"Colonel Cartwright's office?"

Less than half an hour later, Martha sat outside the address Cartwright gave as Jack's. Now here, she wasn't sure this was the best plan. He had called her the day after they chased that Enfros, telling her vaguely of what he had done, forbidding her to tell anyone else. He had said he could tell her because they had seen things no one else had, lived a year longer than the rest of the world, and she would understand. But what if it was more than that? What if he wanted her to find him?

Martha looked down at her mobile. Perhaps she should try calling the Doctor again. Even the thought of traveling between realities was dangerous and if they figured out a way to bring Ianto back there would be no one stopping Jack from going through with it. Except the Doctor. He seemed to have a way with Jack no one else had, a way to make him see reason when he stood at the brink.

But then he would destroy any hope of giving Ianto back to Jack, probably destroying the immortal for good in the process. Besides, Rose had defied him in order to return, and who was he to say the rule could be bent only for his happiness? Jack needed Ianto, it was so clear now, and she wouldn't give the Doctor the chance to stop them from coming together again.

Resolute, Martha got out of the car and marched up the walk. It was so cloudy it was nearly dark and she thought she had seen a light on near the back of the house, but couldn't see it from here. She would never admit she was a little nervous as she knocked on the door. Who knew how much Jack had changed in six months?

She waited, ears straining for the sound of approaching footsteps. Nothing. She knocked again, louder. "Jack?" She called. "It's Martha." Suddenly heavy footfalls grew closer and she took a step back. The door flung open to reveal Jack looking strange in clothing that was not his usual greatcoat and suspenders. He grinned at the sight of her, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, which were lined with dark circles. They looked a little red as well.

"Suddenly, in the middle of an Air Force base, the voice of a nightingale," he said happily, though it came of a bit forced. He swept her into a crushing hug. "What are you doing here?" He pulled away suddenly. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," she lied as he pulled her inside. She should tell him now about Ianto and the possibility of his return, but something held her back. Perhaps it was the way his right hand plunged into his trouser pocket, as though there was something there he had to hold on to. Or maybe the way he glanced outside before stepping back to let her in. "I've just been worried about you. I heard on the news they had gone ahead with the Afghanistan trip without the additional forces they were expecting. I wanted to make sure you were okay." Her eyes swept the room. Base furniture and little else. Nothing like the bits and bobs that had cluttered his office in the old Hub. But, she realized as she looked at Jack again, this wasn't the man who lived in that office.

"Yeah, well, I decided my talents were better spent here," he said lightly yet she could see the suspicion in his eyes. "Drink?"

Martha shook her head and sat on the uncomfortable couch. She patted the seat beside her. "How have you been Jack, really?" She asked, as he seemed to debate sitting down next to her. He finally gave in, but sat on the other side of the couch. She barely hid her frown.

"Not great, but the men keep me busy." Old Jack would have leered and made a suggestive comment, but this man just stared down the hallway next to the kitchen. Martha knew he had been struggling, but she didn't realize he had been drowning.

"Jack?" She asked softly, inching closer. "What is it? What's wrong?"

His head whipped toward her at neck breaking speed, his eyes dead. "You mean other than the death of the man I loved and my grandson's blood on my hands? No, everything is just fine. Tosh, Owen and Gray were splattered across the Plass, but the world is safe from the terrorists," he spat the word out viciously, "so I guess that balances it out." He stood suddenly, unable to stop the words from escaping his mouth. It was as though she had broken some sort of dam. And maybe she had. "John Frobisher killed his family and himself for no reason, but the rest of the children were saved so who really minds? There isn't enough Retcon in the world to make me forget the look in Alice's eyes or the way Ianto's skin turned blue, but as long as the rest of the world can move on, why not me?" A sob tore out of him and he collapsed into Martha's embrace and they both cried.

After a while the tears stopped, but Jack remained with his head on Martha's lap. Slowly, he pulled the object from his pocket he had been gripping so tightly: a beaten-up, very old looking stopwatch, all analog and brass. He stroked it tenderly, his eyes glazing over slightly.

"He died, you know," Jack said suddenly into the silence. Martha worried about his sanity momentarily before he continued. "During the year with Saxon, Ianto died. You were on Earth when it happened, I don't know if you heard. Saxon had sent the team to the Himalayas before we were captured. They eventually discovered it was a ruse and came back to the Hub. The Toclafane were waiting."

"Oh God," Martha whispered. She remembered how their blades seem to cut the air itself. _Fly and blaze and slice._ There was no terror like the adrenaline of fear, your ears pricked for the sound of their humming motors as you squeezed yourself tighter into whatever hiding spot you found. Anything to avoid death by them.

"Yeah." Jack said dully. "They killed everyone but Ianto then and there, and Saxon piped the sound into the ship." He swallowed thickly, his eyes far away. "But Ianto, Ianto he saved just for me." He began to shake slightly. Martha stroked his hair but suddenly he pulled way and sat up. "For two weeks straight he would drag Ianto in front of me and tortured him. They would beat him, shock him, and do everything they had done to me only he never healed as quickly."

"Jack-" Martha really didn't want to hear this, but he cut her off.

"All the while he barely reacted, hardly screamed. He just stared at me with those goddamn blue eyes full of understanding and trust and faith and…love. I wanted to be worth of that so much. I vowed, after they had killed him and threw his body overboard, after I tried to kill Saxon with my bare hands only to die in the process, that if the Doctor's plan worked I would make myself worthy of Ianto."

"You are," Martha said gently. "You loved him just as much as he loved you."

"Then why did I let him die?" He whispered, his eyes trailing back to the hallway. "Why did we go in there with no protection, guns blazing, when we knew what they were capable of doing?" Martha couldn't come up with an answer as she had wondered the same thing many times after hearing of Ianto's death. "I used to dream about what Saxon did to him," Jack continued after a moment. "I'd have terrible nightmares reliving every agonizing moment. And then I'd wake up and he'd be there, but it was almost like a different person. He was still my Ianto, but he wasn't he Ianto who had died for me." He laughed bitterly. "Not yet, anyway."

Jack couldn't have answered the question Martha had wanted to ask any better unless she actually came out and said it. If the other Ianto were to come here, that chasm Mickey described would be wide on both men's part. Jack would always compare him to the other Ianto and Ianto…well, he'd always compare this life to the other one. The only question now was what did Ianto want?

After making her goodbyes and forcing Jack to swear he would keep in touch, Martha drove home in deep thought. One question repeated itself in her mind with great uneasiness: if Ianto did cross over and decided he wanted Jack, would Jack want him?

* * *

Ianto stood at the center of a dais, eyes flickering nervously between the polished columns surrounding him. He focused his gaze on the Doctor and Rose and was suddenly struck with regret. He was going to miss them, Rose especially. He could, and was under orders by the Doctor, to contact the Time Lord on the other side, but there was no Rose there. There could only be one Rose Tyler and now there was only one Ianto Jones. From what he understood of the machine, there could be no Ianto Jones soon. His father would read his letter soon enough, an explanation made of lies that Ianto hoped would comfort him in the sudden loss of his son.

Swallowing noisily, Ianto gripped the straps that held the quantum stabilizer (so parts of him didn't end up in yet another reality, according to the Doctor) and nodded. Techs in white lab coats began to flip switches and press buttons. The columns began to rotate around him, faster and faster until they blurred, distorting Rose's face. She raised a hand to wave goodbye and may have tried to shout good luck over the whirring machinery, but Ianto wasn't sure. He wasn't sure of anything now. The columns moved impossibly faster and the noise reached a deafening level. His heart raced and he shut his eyes against his rising fear.

He had survived more than this, worse than this. Cyberman, cannibals, faeries, desertion, old lovers, the end of the world and even his own death. Yet panic took control. _Stop!_ He wanted to shout. _Stop please, I've made a mistake!_ Sparks flew from somewhere; he could see the light behind his lids and smell the molten metal. _I changed my mind, I just want to go home, please!_ Shouting voices barely pushed through the grating sound and his own internal screaming. He tried to think of anything else, everything terrible he had been through but at the moment nothing seemed more terrifying than standing in the center of this contraption.

Rose may have shouted his name, but the pleading in his head pushed any other thoughts out. _I want to go home, please let me go home. _

Suddenly, there was nothing.

The Doctor and Rose stared at the spot Ianto once occupied, fear rising in her and curiosity in him as smoke and sparks poured from the machine.

"Did it work?" She whispered, blindly searching for her communication sheet. They had originally wanted to wait to use the machine until after they had finalized the equipment to monitor the subject across worlds. But the Doctor had insisted (and Ianto somewhat reluctantly agreed) they send him over as soon as possible. So now the only way to know if it worked was to contact Mickey. All the messages over the past two days had limited her to only a few words, however, so she had to stop herself from asking every question she had about Ianto's crossing over.

"How far ahead are we from the other reality?" The Doctor asked as he stared at the data readings. "A year, right?"

"And one month," Rose said absently as she began to compose her message.

"Whoops."

* * *

Cold air forced itself into his lungs, blood pounded in his ears and something wet and cold seeped into his bones. Where was he? Who was he? Why had he been torn from his blissful nothingness and forced back to the living?

Eyes, yes he had eyes, slowly opened and he saw an ink-blue sky filled with something soft and white. Something dug into his back and he shifted, trying to remember how to work his limbs. The pain increased so finally his body pushed itself into the sitting position. He tugged at the straps he somehow knew were connected to the white-hot searing feeling in the middle of his back and yelled as it intensified with movement. He knew it would only go away if he got the bag off. With a scream that echoed through the cold night, he pulled the bag away from his body and fell heavily back on the ground.

The snow, that word seemed right, soothed the pain to an aching throb. He glanced at the device to see what had caused the pain and spied a metal piece had overheated and burned itself into his skin. Now a piece of himself clung to the metal and the soft winter breeze brought along with it the faint smell of cooking meat. Suddenly he was kneeling on the floor of that disgusting kitchen, the meat cleaver at his neck and his stomach roiled. He quickly and clumsily pushed himself onto all fours just before retching onto the pure white ground. He emptied the little in his stomach and used the snow to wash his face and clean out his mouth before slumping back onto the ground, letting his breathing slow from its erratic place. His senses, no longer heightened by the shock of the trip, took in his surroundings. He had landed in a large field, dotted with trees, the falling snow creating a whisper of sound and the cold drove away any birds that may have chirped to break the quiet.

The silence soothed him and he lay staring at the night sky devoid of the moon but full of stars until he finally felt able to think properly. He thought he knew this place, maybe. It felt right.

Headlights suddenly shone behind him and he sat up, the lights stretching his shadow before him. He wanted to turn toward them but his body didn't seem to agree with that movement. A car door slammed and running feet ruined the pristine snow. A woman crouched beside him to quickly and efficiently check him over. A doctor, he assumed. She glanced at the skin on the bag and delicately ran her fingers near the injury on his back.

"Can you stand?" She asked, her voice smooth and soft. He wasn't sure he could stand but he allowed her to pull him up anyway. His legs seemed to support his weight so he guessed that answered her question.

"Ianto, are you alright? Do you know who I am? Where you are?"

_Ianto._ His name was Ianto…Jones. Ianto Jones. Suddenly everything rushed back at him and he staggered slightly under the weight of it Martha gripped his arms with a strength that didn't quite seem to fit her small form.

"I'm here." His voice caught with laughter and he struggled to contain it. "I made it, I'm here." The laughter broke free and nearly turned hysterical as he clung to Martha's arms. He met her eyes and she smiled broadly at him, though he could see the worry in her eyes. He quickly stifled his giggles and straightened up. Finally being here seemed to temporarily wipe away his concerns from the other world.

"Welcome to the other side," Martha said, still grinning. "We've been waiting for over a month!" She laughed and he joined her briefly when suddenly his brain registered the cold and he shivered. "Let's get you in the car so I can take you home and get you settled." She picked up the burnt-out machine and threw it into the boot of her car as Ianto climbed into the passenger seat. The drive to Martha and Tom's flat (she announced he wasn't in any condition to be left alone at his yet) started quietly until the question that had niggled his brain since they left the field wormed its way out of his mouth.

"Can I see Jack?" It had been his deciding factor in coming here, the thought of reuniting with his immortal lover. He had realized that he couldn't live in a world where Jack wouldn't exist for hundreds of years, and knew that he would be miserable if he stayed in the other reality without him.

The silence that greeted him made Ianto's heart sink. Something had convinced Martha that perhaps Jack wouldn't want a second chance with Ianto and the longer the silence went on the more reasons Ianto came up with as to why he wouldn't. Perhaps Martha believed Jack wouldn't be able to get over the fact that there was just something a little off with Ianto now, like the smooth skin where a scar once sat on his neck or the soreness in his shoulder when it rained that now no longer existed.

"Let's get you settled in first and then we'll see about going to the others," Martha said softly. It confirmed Ianto's suspicions but it didn't stop the ache from creeping into his heart. He had wanted nothing more than to run to Jack immediately and begin a new life with him. And yet Martha's doubt was beginning to become his own and tarnish that dream.

If he knew anything about Jack, Ianto knew he would be blaming himself for Ianto's death and he had to believe that Jack would jump at the chance of reconciling his mistakes if given the opportunity. Yet, Ianto couldn't seem to fight the rising fear that perhaps he had come all this way for nothing

He turned his head to watch the passing lights without interest, struggling to ignore the dark part of his mind hat whispered about how Jack had moved on, that the others hadn't needed him to rebuild Torchwood. He had only been the tea boy and part time shag so they had quickly forgotten him. They didn't need him, he wasn't even the same man. The Doctor had warned him of the awkward moments that would come up when someone (probably Gwen) would inadvertently bring up some difference between him and the Ianto who died. It would be too much to handle and unfair to them to have to live through He wouldn't see them, he wouldn't burden them with his presence here. He would simply find Jack and if he didn't want Ianto (he swallowed the sudden tears in his eyes and willed his heart to stop pounding in fear) then he would simply go away.

Martha seemed to sense his thoughts and reached across the console to grab his still cold hand before grinning. "I'm so glad you're here. Everyone will be happy to see you." Ianto tried to let the words warm him, but the cold voice continued to whisper in his ear.

* * *

Ianto had slept fitfully on the Milligan's couch for a week, adjusting to the new world from within its four walls, his subconscious reliving every fight or angry moment he had ever had with Jack. It was like the dark voice that hissed all his thoughts took over his mind as he slept, refusing to let in a bit of hope.

"Ianto?" Tom's voice broke his dark thoughts. The older man stared at him over his coffee mug from the table. It turned out Ianto knew how to make the perfect cup, though he had always bought his own from the café round the corner from his shop. Pushing away the homesick feeling that settled in his stomach, Ianto turned his attention to he bacon in the pan. Coffee accompanied the breakfast he insisted on making for the man who had let a stranger into his home with only a few firm words from his wife.

Ianto glanced back at Tom, who was studying him unabashedly. He reminded Ianto of the Doctor with that intense stare. Martha still hadn't gotten a hold the Time Lord in this world and Ianto couldn't help but remember the anguish in Jack's voice when he had repeated how "wrong" he was in the Doctor's eyes. If Ianto was just as much as an abomination to the alien now he didn't much care because he knew that at least one version liked him.

He hadn't spoken to anyone since he returned because he was still unsure as to what he wanted to do. Despite Martha's insistence that the new Torchwood Three team would welcome him with open arms, he didn't want to go back yet. She eventually revealed that only Mickey knew he was on this world and Ianto agreed to let Martha bring him here yesterday. It was an awkward reunion at first, Ianto wasn't sure what to do but then Mickey reminded him that this wasn't his first time at the whole alternate reality thing, cracked a joke and they spent the rest of the night talking. Mickey wanted to hear about Ianto's other life and in turn told Ianto about his time away from Torchwood. He had found this world's Jake in the phone book but didn't have the courage to look for him any further.

Before leaving Mickey said he would support Ianto in whatever he decided to do, just as long as he promised to keep in touch. He vowed to not say a word, especially to Gwen, until Ianto gave him the go ahead. It was reassuring to have their camaraderie back, but it didn't help Ianto in his choice of returning to Torchwood or walking away. Maybe he could do as Mickey did and try both.

Ianto returned his focus to the present only to find Tom still staring. "What?" He asked a bit shortly as he looked down at himself. He hadn't spilled or gotten grease on his button down blue shirt and brown slacks. They weren't quite right, but Ianto felt so stiff and unnatural in the three-piece suit Martha said she managed to nick along with these from his flat. Apparently his landlord was easily distracted and Martha walked right in without a fuss.

"Nothing," Tom finally said. "Just thinking about something Martha said to me last night." Ianto turned away, hiding his flush of embarrassment. He knew the couple argued about him, at the very least they discussed him a lot since he heard his name clearly from the muffled discussions heard from behind closed doors. Sometimes they sounded angry, other times as though they were merely talking. But he was usually the subject.

"Sorry," Ianto apologized as he plated their food. Martha had left an hour ago with barely the time to fill a travel mug with the apparently heavenly coffee.

"Nothing to be sorry for. You've gone through so much, it just…" Tom trailed off and when it seemed like he wouldn't continue Ianto returned his focus to the food before him. After a moment the jingle of keys made him look up to see Tom sliding a set of car keys across the table. "I have some work to do so I'll be locked in my study for most of the day. You're welcome to go out if you need the fresh air." Before Ianto could answer, Tom refilled his mug and disappeared into the aforementioned room.

While Martha did everything in her power to distract him, Tom just let him be; let him think and while he had never gone so far as to tell what Ianto to do, he appreciated this casual introduction of a solution. It was just very Tom, as he was quickly learning, to point out door number three when one and two weren't the right answer but never push you through it.

Ianto stared at the keys for a while. He knew the dangers of going out: it was too easy for him to be seen. But he was also smart enough not to go anywhere near Torchwood or his family, as much as he wanted to. He had been thinking about visiting a few places and this was as good a time as any. If luck was on his side, he would be back before Martha so there wouldn't be any lectures from her and while he didn't know if Tom would keep quiet about this, he knew the man would stand up for his decision.

Ianto suddenly stood from the table, placed the dishes in the sink and grabbed his pea coat (another article stolen from his flat), his mind already planning out the best routes to his destinations. Soon Ianto seemed to be working on automatic pilot and he found himself parked on the side of the road near the village in the Beacons. This is where that hamburger stand had been set up, where Jack announced they would be camping and Ianto though he would never feel a part of the group no matter how many outings they went on. He remembered the heat of the burgers, the sneer on Owen's face and the smell of the rain in the air.

_No other race in the universe goes camping. Celebrate your own uniqueness._

He had known the expedition was really a team-building exercise dressed up as a mission from the moment Jack asked if they had camping equipment. Though he and Jack had grown closer since the incident with the faeries, the others still didn't quite know what to do with him and he had no qualms about reminding them of what they had done, even if Lisa had been long gone by then.

Ianto took in a deep breath of country air and exhaled it slowly.

_What is that smell?  
That would be grass.  
It's disgusting._

Looking back, it was probably the best way to have the others get over their anger and heal some of the hurt Ianto's betrayal had caused. When your entire team is nearly eaten by a village of cannibals, keeping your Cyberman girlfriend in the basement didn't seem so bad anymore.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, Ianto drove to the field where they had found Mary's ship. Though he hadn't gone on the trip here, it was where his relationship with Tosh began its journey to growing stronger. Because of Mary they discovered how much they understood and needed each other. Tosh had always been kind to him, especially when no one else had, but he had chalked that up to Tosh being a genuinely kind person. It wasn't until she told him what she had heard, while wearing the necklace, with tears in her eyes that she realized how much she cared.

_Can't imagine the time when this isn't everything. Pain so constant, like my stomach's full of rats. Feels like this is all I am now. There isn't an inch of me that doesn't hurt. _

It took the better part of the afternoon, but Ianto eventually found out where he had been buried. He imagined Rhiannon fought for it with everything she had, though on the heels of that he remembered that there had been no Torchwood drawer waiting for him and he was sure Jack had wanted nothing more to do with him once he had died though out of grief or something else he might never know, so perhaps she didn't have to fight at all.

Ianto Jones lay in eternal rest between the headstone he had made for Lisa and his father's grave. It was strange to see the marker for the man he spoke to only days before. There were no words to describe how it felt to be looking at his own grave, to know that his own body laid decomposing six feet below his feet.

This must be what an out-of-body experience feels like, he thought as he stood in the eerily quiet cemetery covered in a thick blanket of white. The snow nearly covered their headstones and Ianto crouched to clear them. He fondly caressed the words of Lisa's favorite poem carved onto the headstone he had so carefully chosen even though she had been tucked away in a warehouse at the time.

_I gave you my love, you can only guess  
How much you gave me in happiness  
I thank you for the love each have shown  
But now it is time I traveled on alone_

Tear tracks froze on his cheeks as Ianto crouched beside the empty grave. Jack had forced him to get rid of the bodies and he couldn't seem to bring himself to have her buried in this place. She hadn't been Lisa since Canary Warf and he wouldn't put that monster in her place in death as it had in life.

With stiff joints Ianto ignored his own headstone and cleared off his father's next. It read the standard "loving husband and father" and Ianto scoffed with old resentment at the man who pushed him too hard and always made his disappointment in his son known. His mind flickered to the kind man who raised him, who gave him money and encouraged his desire to do something not expected of him but quickly moved away before regret could settle in.

With a deep breath Ianto knelt beside the center headstone, his shaking hand hovering over the snow that covered it. He knew his body, the right body with all the scars and calluses was in the frozen earth below yet if he didn't look at the name carved in polished rock he could trick himself it was someone else's grave. Yet he knew he was there and here. Dead but alive. Dead and alive. The 456 released a poisonous gas on July 9, 2009, killing him along with more than 300 others in Thames house. Yet on the same day he sat bored in his shop, completing five orders and helping three customers before closing early and enjoying a night alone at the theater.

It made his head spin to be this living contradiction, yet the longer he stayed here, staring at the snow that was the only barrier between his life and his death, he could feel the contradiction waning and his memories of this world growing stronger. The Doctor had said, just before placing his hands on Ianto's head and pulling his memories apart like separating wool, that the memories of whatever world he stayed in would eventually dominate the others. Ianto juts didn't expect to feel like he was losing a part of himself.

He knelt there for hours, his hand outstretched like some strange angel praying over his grave. The sun's light diffused behind grey clouds soon dimmed and yet Ianto didn't move. He needed only to wipe away this snow and face his other half head on but something inside him hesitated. He could just walk away and put his first life behind him to start anew. So he did. But as he walked back to the car he realized there was one more thing to sort out before he could end this waiting and finally begin living again.

Jack.

Later that night Ianto laid staring at the white ceiling, waiting for the light from beneath the door that led to Martha and Tom's room to extinguish. He had only this one opportunity, Martha would notice her phone missing soon enough and he knew she would be extra vigilant after tonight. Soon the yellow glow on the space above him disappeared and he counted the minutes in his mind. Fifteen had to be more than enough to ensure both were asleep. With the stealth learned in his teenage occupation of thief, he crept into the room furthest from the bedroom, the kitchen, and opened Martha's mobile.

The white light from the tiny screen was the only light in the dark kitchen as Ianto scrolled down her most recent calls. She wouldn't have been so stupid as to list Jack's number in her phone book, but she had made several comments that lead him to believe she had talked to him recently. He growled softly in frustration when he reached the end of the list and saw no unlisted numbers. He quickly went back up the list before pausing at a familiar name.

Jack had mentioned Alexander Cartwright once, after returning from his trip with the Doctor. If something were to happen to him and they needed army assistance, he said, call Cartwright. Ianto glanced at the clock. No one would be in the office at 2 a.m. but perhaps something in the answering service would lead him to Jack.

The ringing on the other line seemed to echo throughout the silent kitchen and Ianto dialed the volume down as far as he possibly dared and waited for the automated message to begin, which it did in a clipped female voice. It droned on about several figureheads that Ianto remembered being quite uncooperative with Torchwood and only half listened until something caught his attention.  
"…if you wish to speak to security, please press 26 now." Maybe they could get him Jack's number, he hoped as he pressed the appropriate buttons. It was his best shot so far. The phone clicked then began to ring again.

"Jack Harkness." The sleep in his voice reminded Ianto of the many times when he answered his phone from Ianto's embrace after a blissful night in bed. Ianto nearly dropped the phone as the voice reverberated through his body and he bit back a sob. "Hello?"

_Do you remember?_ Ianto wanted to say. _Do you remember the day we spent in bed? We were in our own little world for 24 hours; just us and no one else. You thought I was asleep and you told me you loved me. Said you hated that you could never sway it to my face. Said I deserved more but I didn't, I only wanted you. I always will._ Ianto's breath grew ragged.

"Who the hell is this?" Jack growled, sounding just like he did when he ordered Ianto to execute Lisa. Ianto wanted to speak but there was something broken, something dead in Jack's voice that cracked Ianto's heart in two, filling his throat with a sudden onslaught of despair.

_Do you miss me? Have you kept your promise? Do you still love me?_

The only answer was the dial tone.

With tears streaming down his face, Ianto shut the phone lid slowly. Now what? Jack was here, on Earth, head of security at one of the most well defended bases in Her Majesty's Armed Forces. What did he need Ianto for now?

"Did it help, hearing his voice?" Martha's voice, ragged from sleep floated through the shadows as barely a whisper yet Ianto jumped all the same. He turned toward the sound and could barely make her outline out in the darkness. He couldn't seem to speak so he shrugged. They existed in the dark in silence for a while before the whisper of robe against skin told him Martha had gone back to bed.

One thing was for certain: hearing his voice wasn't enough, Ianto needed to see him. Tomorrow, he decided. Tomorrow he would ask Martha to take him to Jack and tomorrow everything would change.

* * *

Jack tossed and turned. Great, now he couldn't sleep because of that stupid prank call. Yet, as Jack swung his feet over the edge of the bed to sit up, he realized something bugged him about that call. He knew he could just call for a trace but that would require waking someone up and he didn't feel like having a partner in his insomnia. Just as well I woke up, he thought as he lay back down. He was dreaming about Ianto. Again. His promise to never forget was haunting him and he didn't want live like this any longer. But he didn't have a choice; he deserved this torture because it was his fault they had died. Wasn't it?

Fully awake now, Jack decided to blow off some steam at the firing range just one block over. Some generals had an unusual training method of waking their men from a dead sleep and rushing them to the range, so it was always open. Jack supposed the technique made sense, the enemy wouldn't tell you in advance when they were going to attack and one of the oldest war tactics was to catch your enemy off guard by attacking while they slept.

The 24-hour gun range also meant that people like Jack had access to it whenever they needed, even at nearly three in the morning. He ignored the salute of the attending corporal as he walked into the range. He quickly set his target and clamped on his ear guards. As he raised his Webley to shoot his mind wandered to his training sessions with his Torchwood team. He used it as a gauge of how far he could push the flirting with everyone except Owen; it had been too soon after Katie's death. Tosh hadn't melted into a puddle of goo, but she hadn't remained cold like Suzie. It gave them something to bond over other than him saving her from a life as a UNIT prisoner.

Gwen…well, Gwen's had been like two teenagers making eyes across the hall. It was charged with energy that at the time Jack mistook for sexual. Now he realized it was simply his desire to remember Rose through Gwen.

Ianto's, of course, had been different, it was Ianto. Despite being just an archivist, Torchwood London had taught him how to shoot so their session had merely been a refresher. A boring time indeed had it not been for the slow burn of desire that flickered between them. Every touch was charged with nearly tangible want and every breath a bit shallower than the last. It was the tension from the warehouse only tenfold. After discovering Lisa, Jack always wondered how much of that tension was fear and how much was genuine desire.

Jack threw down his headgear in frustration as the paper target sailed toward him. He needed a day where he didn't think of Ianto or Torchwood or his family. He didn't want to forget them, but he was drowning in his sorrow and he desperately needed a life preserver. Something had to give.

"Major Harkness?" A young voice floated to Jack like a sign from God, if Jack believed in Him, of course. Greg Hutchinson stood off to the side, his blue eyes too much like Ianto's watching him with understanding he should have.

"What are you doing here Hutchinson?" Jack demanded in a tone that was much harsher than he meant to use. The boy didn't even flinch.

"Same as you, I suppose. Couldn't sleep." He shrugged, a fluid shift of shoulders. He raised the unloaded gun in his hand. "Thought I'd try to improve my shooting." He glanced down then looked up at Jack shyly through his lashes in a practice look of not-so-innocent invitation. "Have any pointers for me?"

Something inside Jack fought through the guilt and anguish and screamed at him to take this chance. Greg wasn't much younger than Ianto and was clearly willing. But even Jack knew the dangerous repercussions if they were found out. Jack knew he could count on Greg to keep those gorgeous, pink, kissable lips shut, he just didn't want to see the young man's life ruined because of him.

It startled Jack to realize he could think of someone else in a sexual way when Ianto was only dead a few months, but it was out there now and Jack found he didn't want to take it back. Besides, the look on Greg's face wasn't exactly helping. Had Jack been thinking clearly, he would have seen this growing affection earlier and put an end to it.

Movement caught his eye and Jack thought he could see Ianto in the doorway. A faraway voice begged in beautiful Welsh vowels for Jack to never forget and his fear that if he moved on then he would start to let go of the details and soon begin to break that promise grew.

He took a step back; somehow he had leaned toward Hutchinson and sighed, "Just remember what I told you in training the other day and you'll be fine."

Disappointment flickered across young (too young) features and Jack began to walk away when a plaintive, "Sir?" stopped him in his tracks. Jack swallowed back the lump in his throat and hoped he looked calm when he turned back to face the young soldier.

"I don't presume to know what you're going through, sir," he said nervously. "But I know you're hurting and I wanted to say if there was anything I could do-"

"Thank you Hutchinson," Jack cut him off before he could finish, before Jack could contemplate taking up his offer. "But this is something I need to handle on my own." He would forever be on his own, just like the Doctor.

After returning to his house and crawling into bed, a new thought formed on the edge of his consciousness and if he concentrated he could almost hear Ianto saying it. Maybe it was his way of letting go of the guilt, to imagine Ianto condoning it. But Jack had lived mired in his guilt for too long. To move on wasn't to forget Ianto, Tosh, Owen and the hundreds more who died for him. To move on was, as Ianto's letter said, to help even more people in the memory of those he had lost. He could do this; he tried to convince himself as he slipped into a dreamless sleep. He could move on.

* * *

Ianto and Martha sat in the car outside the base for nearly an hour, Ianto watching the man whose life had completely consumed his own since Torchwood One fell. Jack looked a little distorted through the binocular lens yet seemed the same. Would he have dark circles under his eyes upon closer inspection? Would there be lines of grief etched on his face? Or was his face stretched with that trademark grin, all the darkness Ianto associated with his gaze gone?

"So, what do you think you want to do?" Martha asked softly, without judgment or retribution. Ianto didn't move from his watchful post, though the binoculars wavered slightly. If he got out of the car, he was changing his and Jack's life forever. They'd struggle with trying to reconcile the past, present and future. They'd probably revert to some of their old arguments. And he already could see the shadows of memories from their other life in Jack's eyes, the final unmoving barrier between them. Ianto didn't know if their new life could survive that.

Or he could tell Martha to turn around and Jack could believe him dead and continue to move on. Ianto could start a new life here as Rose and the Doctor had made it perfectly clear there was no way he could return to the other world. He could start from scratch, move away from Cardiff and Torchwood. Have a normal job and live a normal life. But he would never be able to completely forget and those memories would be the constant hurdle between him and actually starting fresh.

"Ianto?" Martha laid a gentle hand on his arm. "We stay here much longer and they're bound to notice us."

Ianto took another look at Jack through the binoculars before lowering them slowly to his lap. He turned and smiled at Martha before taking a deep breath. He'd made his choice.

* * *

And there we have it! What did you think? Please let me know!

**Additional author's notes:** There were several nods to all things Torchwood in this fic. There were mentions of events from the follwoing radio plays: The Dead Line, Golden Age, Lost Souls and Asylum. I own nothing, the BBC does, and I thank them for it. Mostly. I also want it noted that I haven't watched CoE since July so everything came from memory.

I also snuck in the Brigone, an alien race I created in my one-shot, Battlefield, as well as a piece of dialogue or two.

Rhys and Ianto getting drunk and covering Gwen in post-its is the original idea of the amazing a_silver_story, over on LJ, from her fic series, The Torchwood IM 'Verse. Again, I don't own it, but I freaking adore it! Check it (and the rest of her amazing fics) out! You won't regret it!

The poem on Lisa's headstone is "To Those Whom I Love And Those Who Love Me" by Mary Alice Ramish

**One last thing:** Before you ask, I don't intend on following up this fic any time soon. Real life and other fandoms have taken me away from this fic and Torchwood, however there may be a time where I suddenly feel inspired and write an epilogue! You never know.


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